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GLORIA MUNDI 


BY 

HAROLD FREDERIC 

AUTHOR OF 

“The Damnation of Theron Ware,” “March Hares,” etc. 




NEW YORK 

INTERNATIONAL BOOK AND 
PUBLISHING COMPANY 
i8 99 



This volume is issued for sale in 
paper covers only 



COPYRIGHT 1898, BY 
JOHN BRISBEN WALKER 
COPYRIGHT 1898, BY 
HERBERT S. STONE & CO 

Bequest 

Albert Adsifc Clemons 
Aug. 24, 1938 
(Not available for exchange) 


TO MY FRIEND 


THE HON. ALTON B. PARKER 

CHIEF JUDGE OF THE COURT 
OF APPEALS, N. Y. 



PART I 


CHAPTER I 

The meeting of the man and the woman — 
it is to this that every story in the world 
goes back for its beginning. 

At noon on a day late in September the 
express train from Paris rested, panting and 
impatient, on its brief halt in the station at 
Rouen. The platform was covered with 
groups of passengers, pushing their way into 
or out of the throng about the victualer’s 
table. Through the press passed waiters, 
bearing above their heads trays with cups of 
tea and plates of food. People were climbing 
the high steps to the carriages, or beckoning 
to others from the open windows of compart- 
ments. Four minutes of the allotted five had 
passed. The warning cries of the guards had 
begun, and there was even to be heard the 
ominous preliminary tooting of a horn. 

At the front of the section of first-class 
carriages a young woman leaned through the 
broad window-frame of a coupe, and held a 


i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


difficult conversation with one of the waiters. 
She had sandwiches in one hand, some loose 
coin in the other. Her task was to get at the 
meaning of a man who spoke of sous while 
she was thinking in centimes, and she smiled 
a little in amused vexation with herself at 
the embarrassment. 

“Deux sandwich: combien si vous plait, 
monsieur?” she repeated, with an appealing 
stress of courtesy. More slowly she con- 
structed a second sentence: “Est un franc 
assez?’ ’ She proffered the silver coin to help 
out her inquiry, and the waiter, nodding, 
put up his hand for it. 

On the instant, as the noise of slamming 
doors and the chorus of “Au coupd, s’il-v’- 
plait!” grew peremptory, one in authority 
pushed the waiter aside and pulled open the 
coupe door upon which she had been leaning. 
“Permettez moi, madame!” he said curtly. 

Close at his back was a young man, with 
wraps upon his arm and a traveling bag in 
his hand, who was flushed and breathing 
hard with the excitemQnt of hurry, and who 
drew a long sigh of relief as he put his foot 
on the bottom step of the coupe. 

The young woman had grasped the door 
and was striving stoutly to drag it to her. 
“Mais non, monsieur!” she shouted, her 
voice quivering with vehemence. “Cette 


2 


GLORIA MUNDI 


compartement est tout reserved — engaged! 
J’ai donne sank franc soisante, en Paris, 
pour moi seulement! Je proteste! ” 

Sharp blasts from a horn at the rear of the 
train broke in upon her earnest if uncertain 
remarks. The official held up one warning 
hand, while with the other he wrenched the 
door wide open. He said something of 
which the girl comprehended only its arbi- 
trary harshness of spirit. Brusquely thrust- 
ing a ticket into the young man’s hand, he 
pushed him up the steps into the compart- 
ment, and closed the door upon him with a 
clang. Arms were waving outside ; the tin 
horn screamed; a throb of reawakened 
energy thrilled backward through the train. 

‘ ‘ I assure you— I am so sorry, ’ ’ the young 
man began, still standing by the door. His 
voice was gentle and deprecatory. His 
words were English, but the tone was of 
some other language. 

“But I have taken the whole compart- 
ment — I paid for it all!’’ she burst out at 
him, her voice shaking with indignation. 
“It is an outrage!’’ 

“I am afraid you are mistaken,’’ he 
started to speak again; “you obtained only 
one seat — I have a ticket for another. If 
there had been time, I beg you to believe — ’’ 
The train was moving, and a swift plunge 


3 


GLORIA MUNDI 


into utter darkness abruptly broke off his 
speech. After a few moments it became 
possible to discern vague outlines in the 
black compartment. The girl had huddled 
herself on the end cushion at the right. The 
young man took his seat in the corner to the 
left, and for three incredibly protracted 
minutes the tunnel reared its uncanny 
barrier of bogus night between them. The 
dim suggestion of light which remained to 
them revealed constrained and motionless 
figures drawn rigidly away from each other, 
and pale averted countenances staring fixedly 
into the gloom. 

All at once they were blinking in a flood 
of sunshine, and drawing welcome breaths 
of the new, sweet air which swept through 
from window to window. The young man’s 
gaze, decorously turned to his left, was of a 
sudden struck with the panorama as by a 
blow. He uttered a little cry of delight to 
himself, and bent forward with eagerness to 
grasp as much as he might of what was 
offered. The broad, hill-rimmed basin of 
the Seine ; the gray towers and shining spires 
of the ancient town ; the blue films of smoke 
drifting through the autumn haze ; the tall 
black chimneys, the narrow, high poplars, 
the splashes of vivid color with which the 
mighty moving picture painted itself — all 


4 


GLORIA MUNDI 


held him, rapt and trembling, with his face 
out of the window. 

Summarily the darkness descended upon 
them again. He drew back, settled himself 
in his seat and recalled the circumstance that 
he was not alone. It occurred to him to pull 
up the window, and then instinctively he 
turned to see if she had taken the same pre- 
caution on her side. Thus when the short 
second tunnel unexpectedly ended, he found 
himself regarding his companion with wide- 
eyed and surprised intentness. 

There were two vacant seats between 
them, and across this space she returned his 
scrutiny for a moment; then with a fine 
show of calm she looked away, out through 
the broad, rounded panes which constituted 
the front of the compartment. 

To the eye of the young man, she was 
above all things English. Her garments, 
her figure, the pose of her head, the con- 
sciously competent repose of her profile, the 
very angle at which the correct gray hat, 
with its fawn-colored ribbon, crossed the line 
of the brow above — these spoke loudly to him 
of the islander. From this fact alone would 
be inferred a towering personal pride, and 
an implacable resentment toward those who, 
no matter how innocently and accidentally, 
offered injury to that pride. He knew the 
5 


GLORIA MUNDI 


English well, and it hardly needed this 
partial view of her face to tell him that she 
was very angry. 

Another young man, under these condi- 
tions, might have more frankly asked himself 
whether the face was a beautiful one. He 
was conscious that the query had taken shape 
in his mind, but he gave it no attention. It 
was the character of the face, instead, which 
had powerfully impressed him. He recalled 
with curious minuteness the details of his 
first glimpse of it — the commanding light in 
the gray eyes, the tightened curves of the 
lip, the mantling red on the high, smooth 
cheek. Was it a pretty face? No — the ques- 
tion would not propound itself. Prettiness 
had nothing to do with the matter. The 
personality which looked through the face — 
that was what affected him. 

The compartment seemed filled in some 
subtle way with the effect of this personality. 
He looked out of his window again. A beau- 
tiful deep valley lay below him now, with 
densely wooded hills beyond. The delicate 
tints of the waning season enriched the 
tracery of foliage close at hand ; still the tall 
chimneys, mixed with poplars, marked the 
course of the enslaved river, but the factories 
themselves were kindly hidden here by dark 
growths of thicket in the shadowed depths. 

6 


GLORIA MUNDI 


It was surpassingly beautiful, but its con- 
templation left him restless. He moved 
about on his seat, partially lowered the 
window, put it up again and at last turned 
his head. 

“I am afraid that all the charming land- 
scape is on this side, ’ ’ he made bold to say. 
“I will change places with pleasure, if — if 
you would be so kind.” 

“No, thank you,” was her spontaneous 
and decisive reply. Upon reflection she 
added in a more deliberate tone: “I should 
be obliged if you would take the view that 
conversation is not necessary. ’ * 

Some latent strain of temerity amazed the 
young man by rising to the surface of his 
mind, under the provocation of this rebuff, 
and shaping his purpose for him. 

“It is only fair to myself, first, however,” 
he with surprise heard himself declaring, 
“that I should finish my explanation. You 
can satisfy yourself readily at Dieppe that 
your ticket is for only one seat. It is very 
easy to make errors of that kind when one 
does not — that is to say, is not — well, entirely 
familiar with the language of the country. 
As to my own part, you will remember that 
I came only at the last moment. I took my 
coupd seat a half hour before, because I also 
wished to be alone, and then I went out to 


7 


GLORIA MUNDI 


see Jeanne d’Arc’s tower again, and I was 
nearly too late. If there had been time, I 
would have found a seat elsewhere — but 
you yourself saw — ” 

“Really, I think no more need be said,” 
broke in his companion. She looked him 
frankly, coldly in the face as she spoke, and 
her words seemed in his ears to have metal- 
lic edges. “It is plain enough that there 
was a mistake. As you have suggested, my 
French is very faulty indeed, and no doubt 
the misunderstanding is entirely my own. 
So, since it is unavoidable, there surely need 
be no more words about it.” 

She opened a book at this, put her feet out 
to the stool in front and ostentatiously dis- 
posed herself for deep abstraction in litera- 
ture. 

The young man in turn got out some 
pamphlets and papers from the pockets of 
his great-coat, and pretended to divide his 
attention between these and the scenery out- 
side. In truth, he did not for a moment get 
the face of this girl out of his thoughts. 
More than ever now, since she had looked 
him fully in the eye, it was not a face to be 
pictured in the brain as other faces of women 
had been. The luminous substance of the 
individuality behind the face shone out at 
him from the pages he stared at, and from the 
8 


GLORIA MUNDI 


passing vistas of lowland meadows, streams 
and mill-towns that met his gaze through the 
window. 

He knew so little of women that his mind 
was quite devoid of materials for any com- 
parative analysis of the effect she pro- 
duced upon him. He evolved for himself, 
indeed, the conviction that really this was 
the first woman, in the genuine and higher 
meaning of the word, that he had ever met. 
The recognition of this brought with it an 
excitement as novel to him as the fact itself. 
Before ever he had seen her, clinging to the 
coupd door with her gloved hands and so 
bravely doing hopeless and tongue-tied battle 
with the guard, there had been things which 
had made this the greatest day of his life. 
He was in truth finishing the last stage of a 
journey into the unknown, the strange 
possibilities of which had for a week kept his 
nerves on the rack. The curtain of only one 
more night hung now between him and the 
revealed lineaments of destiny. To be alone 
with his perturbed thoughts, on this cul- 
minating day of anxious hopes and dreads, 
had been his controlling idea at Rouen. It 
was for this that he had bought the coupe 
seat, upon the rumor of the station that 
solitude was thus to be commanded. And 
now how extraordinary was the chance! 


9 


GLORIA MUNDI 


There had stepped into this eventful day, as 
from the clouds, a stranger whose mysterious 
appeal to his imagination seemed more 
remarkable than all else combined. 

He worked this out, painstakingly, with 
little sidelong glances from time to time 
toward where she sat buried in her book, to 
check the progression of his reasoning. When 
he reached the conclusion that she was really 
playing this predominant part in the drama 
of the day, its suggestion of hysterical folly 
rather frightened him. He looked with 
earnestness out of the window, and even be 
gan to count the chimneys of the landscape as 
an overture to returning sanity. Then he 
looked less furtively at her and said to him- 
self with labored plausibility that she was 
but an ordinary traveling Englishwoman, 

• scarcely to be differentiated from the Cook’s- 
tourist type that he knew so well ; she had 
not even a governess’ knowledge of French, 
and there had been nothing in her words and 
tone with him to indicate either mental dis- 
tinction or kindliness of temper. Why 
should he bestow so much as another thought 
upon her? He squared his slender shoul- 
ders, and turned with resolution to his book. 

A minute later the impossibility of the 
situation had mastered every fiber of his 
brain. He put down the volume, feeling 

IO 


GLORIA MUNDI 


himself to be a fool for doing so, yet suffer- 
ing himself with an unheard-of gladness. 

“If I anger you, I shall be much pained,” 
he said, with a set face turned not quite 
toward her, and a voice that he kept from 
breaking by constant effort, “but I am going 
to England for the first time, and there are 
some things that I am very anxious to ask 
about. ’ ’ 

She seemed to reflect a little before she 
lifted her head. Now again he was privi- 
ledged to look squarely into her face, and he 
added swiftly to his store a new impression of 
her. The ruling characteristic of the counte- 
nance was a certain calm and serious reasona- 
bleness. The forehead was broad and comely ; 
the glance of the eyes was at once alert and 
steady. The other features were content to 
support this controlling upper part of the 
face ; they made a graceful and fitting frame 
for the mind which revealed itself in the 
eyes and brow — and sought to do no more. 
Studying her afresh in this moment of her 
silence, he recalled the face of a young 
Piedmontese bishop who had come once to 
his school. It had the same episcopal 
serenity, the same wistful pride in youth’s 
conquest of the things immortal, the same 
suggestion of intellectuality in its clear 
pallor. 


ii 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“I should dislike to seem rude,” she said, 
slowly. ‘‘What is it that you want to ask?’ ’ 

What was it indeed? He searched con- 
fusedly about in his mind for some one 
question entitled to precedence among the 
thousand to which answers would come in 
good time. He found nothing better than a 
query as to the connection between New 
Haven and Brighton. 

“In this little book, ” he explained, “there 
is a time for New Haven and for London, but 
I cannot find a mention of Brighton, yet I 
am expected there this evening, or perhaps, 
early to-morrow morning. ’ ’ 

“I am sure I cannot tell you,” she 
answered. “However, the places are not 
far apart. I should say there would certainly 
be trains. ’ ’ 

She lifted the book again as she spoke, and 
adjusted her shoulders to the cushions. He 
made haste to prevent the interview from 
lapsing. 

“I have never seen England,” he urged 
dolefully, “and yet I am all English in my 
blood — and in my feelings, too.” 

A flicker of ironical perception played for 
an instant in her eye and at the corner of her 
lip. “I have heard that a certain class of 
Americans adopt that pose,” she remarked. 
“I dare say it is all right. ” 


12 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He did not grasp her meaning all at once, 
though the willingness to give umbrage con- 
veyed in her tone was clear enough. He 
looked doubtfully at her, before he spoke 
again. “Oh,” he began, with hesitation — 
“yes, I see — you thought I was American. 
I am not in the least — I am all English. 
And it affects me very much — this thought 
that in a few hours now I am to see the real 
England. I am so excited about it, in fact, * * 
he added with a deprecatory little laugh, 
“that I couldn’t bear it not to talk.” 

She nodded comprehendingly. ‘ ‘ I thought 
that your accent must be American — since 
it certainly isn’t English.” 

“Oh, I have too facile an ear,” he 
answered readily, as if the subject were 
by no means new to him. “I pick up every 
accent that I hear. I have been much with 
English people, but even more with Ameri- 
cans and Australians. I always talk like 
the last family I have been in — until I enter 
another. I am by profession a private 
tutor — principally in languages — and so I 
know my failings in this matter very well. ’ ’ 
She smiled at some passing retrospect. 
“You must have had an especially complete 
sense of my shortcomings as a linguist, too. 
I have often wondered what effect my 
French would produce upon an actual pro- 
13 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fessor, but I should never have had the cour- 
age to experiment, if I had known. ’ ’ 

He waved his hand — a pale hand with 
veined, thin, nervous fingers, which she 
looked at in its foreign gesture. “Too much 
importance is attached to languages,” he 
declared. “It is the cheapest and most 
trivial of acquirements, if it stands alone, or 
if it is not put to high uses. Parents have so 
often angered me over this: they do not 
care what is in their children’s minds and 
hearts, but only for the polish and form of 
what is on their tongues. I have a different 
feeling about education. ’ ’ 

She nodded again, and laid the book aside. 
“You are coming to a country where every- 
thing will shock you, then,” she said. “I 
would rather do scullery work, or break 
stones by the roadside, than be a school- 
teacher in England. ’ ’ 

“Oh, it’s the same everywhere,” he urged. 
“I would not think that the English were 
worse than the others. They are different, 
that is all. Besides, I do not think I shall 
be a teacher in England. Of course, I speak 
in the dark ; for a few hours yet everything 
is uncertain. But as the old American sen- 
ator at Monte Carlo used to say, ‘I feel it 
in my bones’ that I will not have to teach 
any more. ’ ’ 


14 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The expression of her face seemed some- 
how not to invite autobiography at the 
moment. “The prospect of not having to 
work any more for one’s living,” she mused 
at him — “how curiously fascinating it always 
is! We know perfectly well that it is good 
for us to work, and that we should be woe- 
fully unhappy if we did not work, and yet 
we are forever charming our imagination 
with a vision of complete idleness.” 

“I would not be idle!” the young man 
broke forth, enthusiastically. He leaned 
forward in his seat, and spoke with eager 
hands as well as words against the noise 
that filled the swaying carriage. “I have 
that same feeling — the longing to escape 
from the dull and foolish tasks I have to do — 
but I never say to myself that I would be 
idle. There are such a host of* things to do 
in the world that are worth doing! But the 
men who have the time and the money, who 
are in the position to do these things — how 
is it, I ask myself, that they never think of 
doing them? It is the greatest of marvels to 
me. Then sometimes I wonder, if the 
chance and the power came to me, whether 
I also would sit down, and fold my hands, 
and do nothing. It is hard to say ; who can 
be sure what is in him till he has been 
tested? Yet I like to think that I would 
15 


GLORIA MUNDI 


prove the exception. It is only natural,” 
he concluded, smilingly, ‘‘that one should 
try to think as well as possible of one- 
self.” 

The young lady surveyed his nervous, 
mobile face with thoughtful impassivity. 
‘‘You seem to think, one way or another, a 
good deal about yourself, ’ * she remarked. 

He bowed to her, with a certain exaggera- 
tion in his show of quite sincere humility 
which, she said to herself, had not been 
learned from his English-speaking con- 
nections. 

“What you say is very true,” he admitted 
with candor. “It is my fault — my failing. 
I know it only too well.” 

“My fault is bad manners,” she replied, 
disarmed by his self-abasement. “I had no 
business to say it at all. * ’ 

“Oh, no,” he urged. “It is delightful to 
me that you did say it. I could not begin 
to tell you how good your words sounded in 
my ears. Honest and wise criticism is what 
I have not heard before in years. You do 
not get it in the South ; there is flattery for 
you, and sneering, and praise as much too 
high as blame is too cruel — but no candid, 
quiet judgments. Oh, I loved to hear you 
say that! It was like my brother — my older 
brother Salvator. He is in America now. 

16 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He is the only one who always said the truth 
to me. And I am glad, too, because — 
because it makes you seem like a friend to 
me, and I have been so agitated this whole 
week, so anxious and upset, and all without 
a soul to talk to, or advise with — and the 
pressure on me has been so great — ’ ’ 

He let the wandering sentence lose itself 
in the clamor of the train, and put the rest 
of his meaning into the glance with which 
he clung to hers. The appeal for sympa- 
thetic kindliness of treatment glowed in his 
eyes and shone upon his eager face. 

She took time for her answer, and when 
she spoke it was hardly in direct reply. 
“Your business in England,** she said, as 
unconcernedly as might be — “it is that, I 
take it, which causes so much anxiety. 
Fortunately it is soon to be settled — to-mor- 
row, I think you said.*’ 

“I wish I might tell you about it,** he 
responded with frank fervency. “I wish 
it — you cannot imagine how much!’* 

The look with which she received his 
words recalled to him her earlier manner. 
“I’m afraid — ’* she began, in a measured 
voice, and then stopped. Intuition helped 
him to read in her face the coming of a softer 
mood. Finally she smiled a little. “Really, 
this is all very quaint,’’ she said, and the 


17 


GLORIA MUNDI 

smile crept into her voice. “But the train 
is slowing down — there is no time now.” 

They were indeed moving through the 
street of a town, at a pace which had been 
insensibly lowered while they talked. The 
irregular outlines of docks and boat-slips, 
overhanging greenish water, revealed them- 
selves between dingy houses covered with 
signs and posters. At the barriers crossing 
the streets were clustered groups of philo- 
sophic observers, headed by the inevitable 
young soldier with his hands in the pockets 
of his red trousers, and flanked by those 
brown old women in white caps who seem 
always to be unoccupied, yet mysteriously 
do everything that is done. 

“This is Dieppe, then?” he asked, with a 
collecting hand put out for his wraps. 

The train had halted, and doors were being 
opened for tickets. 

“We sit still, here, and go on to the 
wharf,” she explained. 

‘ ‘ And then to the boat ! ” he cried. ‘ * How 
long is it? — the voyage on the boat, I mean. 
Three hours and over! Excellent!” 

She laughed outright as she rose, and got 
together her books and papers. 

“I thought you were a Frenchman when I 
first saw you,” she confided to him over her 
shoulder. “But no Frenchman at Dieppe 
18 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ever yet shouted ‘Excellent!’ with his face 
turned toward the New Haven steamers.” 

The mirth in her tone was so welcome to 
him that he laughed in turn, without any 
clear idea of her words. He gathered her 
handbag up along with his own, and when 
she demurred he offered her gay defiance. 

“It is the terrible boldness of a timid 
person,” he prattled, as he helped her down 
the steps, “but you must perceive that in the 
face of it you are quite helpless. Since I 
was bom, I have never really had my own 
way before. But now I begin to believe in 
my star. After all, one is not an English- 
man for nothing.” 

“Oh, it is comparatively easy to be an 
Englishman in Dieppe,” she made answer. 


CHAPTER II 


The sky was dappled azure overhead, the 
water calm and fresh-hued below. When 
the ship’s company had disposed itself, 
and the vessel was making way outside, 
there were numerous long gaps of unpeopled 
space on the windy side, and to one of these 
the young couple tacitly bent their steps. 
They leaned against the rail, standing close 
together, with their faces lifted to the strong 
sweet breeze. 

Viewed thus side by side, it could be seen 
that of the two the young man was just per- 
ceptibly the taller, but his extreme fragility 
excused his companion’s conception of him 
as a small man. On his head he had pulled 
tight for the voyage a little turban of a cap, 
which accentuated the foreign note of his 
features and expression. He was dark of 
skin and hair, with deep-brown eyes both 
larger and softer than is common with his 
sex, even in the South. The face, high and 
regular in shape, had in repose the careworn 
effect of maturer years than the boyish figure 
indicated. In the animation of discussion 


21 


GLORIA MUNDI 


this face took on, for the most part, the 
rather somber brilliancy of a strenuous 
earnestness. Now, as it confronted the stiff 
Channel wind, it was illumined by the 
unaccustomed light of a frivolous mood. 
The ends of his slight mustache were lifted 
in a continuous smile. 

“It is my gayest day for many, many 
years,” he told her, after a little pause in 
the talk. They had become great friends 
in this last half-hour. In the reaction from 
the questionable restraint of the coupe to the 
broad, sunlit freedom of the steamer’s deck, 
the girl had revealed in generous measure a 
side of her temperament for which he had 
been unprepared. She had a humorous 
talent, and, once she had gained a clew to 
his perceptive capacities in this direction, it 
had pleased her to make him laugh by droll 
accounts of her experiences and observations 
in Paris. She had been there for a fortnight’s 
holiday, quite by herself, she told him, and 
there was something in her tone which 
rendered it impossible for him to ask himself 
if this was at all unusual among English 
young ladies. His knowledge of Paris was 
also that of a stranger, and he followed her 
whimsical narrative of blunders and odd 
mistakes with a zest heightened by a 
recollection of his own. 


22 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“When have I laughed so much before?” 
he cried now. A long sigh, as of surprised 
relief, followed his words. “Well — I had 
looked forward to coming in a different spirit 
to England. With some hopes and a good 
courage — yes. But with a merry heart — 
how could I have foretold that? It was my 
good angel who put that coupd ticket into 
my head, and so brought me to you. Ah, 
how angry you were ! I see you now, pull- 
ing at that door. ” 

“Ah, well,” she said in extenuation, “how 
could I know? I never dreamed that the 
whole coupd was not mine — and when I saw 
that odious guard opening the door, to force 
in some wretched little Continental crea- 
ture — I mean, that was my momentary 
thought — and naturally I — ’’ 

An involuntary sidelong glance of his eyes 
upward toward the crown of her hat, passed 
mute comment on her unfinished remark. 
She bit her lip in self -reproof at sight o,f the 
dusky flush on his cheek. 

“It is the only un-English thing about 
me,” he said, with a pathetically proud 
attempt at a smile. “My father was a tall, 
big man, and so is my brother Salvator.” 

A new consciousness of the susceptibility 
of this young man to slights and wounds 
spread in the girl’s mind. It was so cruelly 
23 


GLORIA MUNDI 


easy to prick his thin skin! But it was 
correspondingly easy to soothe and charm 
him — and that was the better part. His 
character and temperament mapped them- 
selves out before her mind’s eye. She read 
him as at once innocent and complicated. 
He could be full of confidence in a stranger, 
like herself, but his doubts about his own val- 
ues were distressing. The uncased antennse 
of his self-consciousness were extended in all 
directions, as if to solicit injury. She had 
caught in his brown eyes the suggestion 
of an analogy to a friendless spaniel — the 
capacity for infinite gratitude united with 
conviction that only kicks were to be 
expected. It was more helpful to liken him 
to a woman. In the gentle and timid soul of 
a convent-bred maiden he nourished the 
stormy ambitions of a leader of men. It 
was a nun who boldly dreamed of command- 
ing on the field of battle. 

“I had a feeling,” she said to him, so 
softly that the tone was almost tender, “that 
you must be like your mother. ’ ’ 

She rightly judged him to be her elder, 
but for the moment her mood was absorb- 
ingly maternal. “Let us sit down here,” 
she added, moving toward the bench facing 
the rail. “You were going to tell me — 
about her, was it?” 


24 


GLORIA MUNDI 

He spread his rugs over their knees as 
they sat together in the fresh wind. 

“No, it was not so much of her,” he said. 

‘ ‘ I have much to think about her — not much 
to put into words. She died five years ago — 
nearly six now — and I was so much at school 
that I saw very little of her in the latter 
years. Salvator was with her always, 
though, to the end, although he was not her 
own son. We are half-brothers, but no one 
could have been fonder than he was of my 
mother, or a better son to her. After she 
died, he still kept me in school, and this was 
curious too, because he hated all my teachers 
bitterly. Salvator is fierce against the 
church, yet he kept me where I had been 
put years before, with the Christian Brothers 
at the Bon Rencontre, in Toulon. When at 
last I left them, Salvator took me with him 
for a period — he is an expert and a dealer 
in gems — and then I became a private tutor. 
Four years or so of that — and now I am 
here.” He added, as upon an afterthought: 
“You must not think that I failed to love 
my mother. She was sweet and good, and 
very tender to me, and I used to weep a 
great deal after I left her, but it was not my 
fortune to be so much with her as Salvator 
was. I think of her, but there is not much 
to say. ’ ’ 


25 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The repetition of this formula suggested no 
comment to his companion, and he went on. 

“The real memory of my childhood is my 
father, although I saw him only once. 
Salvator says I saw him oftener, but if so 
all the recollections jumble themselves 
together in my mind, to make a single 
impression. I was five years old; it was in 
the early summer, in 1875. My father had 
been fighting against the Prussians when I 
was born. By the time I was old enough to 
know people, he was away in Spain with 
Don Carlos. He died there, of wounds and 
fever, at Seo de Urgel, in August of that 
same year, 1875. But first he came to see 
us — it would have been in June, I think — 
and we were living at Cannes. He had some 
secret Carlist business, Salvator says. I 
knew nothing of that. I know only that I 
saw him, and understood very well who he 
was, and fixed him in my mind so that I 
should never, never forget him. How strange 
a thing it is about children ! I have only the 
dimmest general idea of how my mother 
looked when I was that age; I cannot 
remember her at all in the odd clothes which 
her pictures show she wore then, though I 
saw them constantly. Yet my father comes 
once and I carry his image till Judgment 
Day.” 


26 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Poor mothers!” sighed the girl, tinder 
her breath. “No, it was nothing. Goon.” 

“I knew that he was a soldier, and that 
wherever there were wars he went to have 
his share of fighting. I suppose it was this 
which gripped my imagination, even as a 
baby. I could read when I was five, and 
Salvator had told me about our father’s 
battles. He had been in the Mutiny in India, 
and he was in Sicily against Garibaldi, and 
he was with the Austrians four years before I 
was bom, and in the French Foreign Legion 
afterward. I think I knew all this when I 
saw him — and if I did not, then I feel that I 
could have learned it from just looking at 
him. He was like a statue of War. Ah, 
how I remember him — the tall, strong, 
straight, dark, hardfaced, silent man!” 

“And you loved him!" commented his 
companion, with significance. 

He shook his head smilingly. The analysis 
in retrospect of his own childish emotions 
had a pleasant interest for him. “No ; there 
was no question of love, at all. For exam- 
ple, he liked Salvator — who was then a big 
boy of fifteen — and he took him off to Spain 
with him when he left. I cannot remem- 
ber that he so much as put his hand on my 
head, or paid the slightest attention to me. 
He looked at me in a grave way if I put 


27 


GLORIA MUNDI 


myself in front of his eyes, just as he looked 
at other things, but he would not turn his 
eyes to follow me if I moved aside. Do 
yon know that to my fancy that was superb? 
I was not in the least jealous of Salvator. 
I only said to myself that when I was his 
age, I also would march to fight in my 
father’s battles. And I was proud that he 
did not bend to me, or put himself out to 
please me, this huge, cold-eyed, lion-like 
father of mine. If he had ever kissed me 
I should have been ashamed — for us both. 
But nothing was farther from his thoughts. 
He went away, and at the door he spoke for 
the first time in my hearing of me. He 
twisted his thumb toward me, where I stood 
in the shelter of my mother’s skirts. 
Mind, he’s an Englishman! he said — and 
turned on his heel. I have the words in my 
ears still. ‘Mind, he’s an Englishman!’ ” 

“There is England!’’ she cried. 

They stood up, and his eager eye, follow- 
ing the guidance of her finger, found the 
faint, broken, thin line of white on the dis- 
tant water’s edge. Above it, as if they were 
a part of it, hung in a figured curtain soft 
clouds which were taking on a rosy tint from 
the declining sun. He gazed at the remote 
prospect in silence, but with a quickened 
breath. 


28 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“It is the first time that / have seen it like 
this — coming toward it, I mean, from some- 
where else, ’ ’ she remarked at last. ‘ ‘ I had 
never been outside England before.” 

He did not seem to hear her. With 
another lingering, clinging gaze at the 
white speck, he shook himself a little, and 
turned. “And now I want to tell you about 
this new, wonderful thing — about why I am 
this minute within sight of England. You 
will say it is very strange.” 

They moved to their bench again, and he 
spread the wraps once more, but this time 
they did not sit quite so close together. It 
was as if the mere sight of that pale, respect- 
able slip of land on the horizon had in some 
subtle way affected their relation to each 
other. 

“A week ago,” he began afresh, “at Nice, 
a messenger from the Credit Lyonnais 
brought me a note saying they wished to see 
me at the bank. They had, it seems, 
searched for me in several towns along the 
Riviera, because I had been moving about. 
It was demanded that I should prove my 
identity by witnesses, and when that was 
done I was given a sum of money, and a 
sealed letter addressed to me, bearing simply 
my name, Mr. Christian Tower — nothing 
more. I hurried outside and read its con- 


29 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tents. I was requested to get together all 
my papers — ” 

He stopped short, arrested by a sharp, 
half-stifled exclamation from her lips. She 
had continued looking at him after his men- 
tion of his name — at first absent-mindedly, 
as if something in his talk had sent her 
thoughts unconsciously astray; then with 
lifted head, and brows bent together in evi- 
dent concentration upon some new phase of 
what he had been saying. Now she inter- 
rupted him with visible excitement. 

“You say Christian Tower!” She pushed 
the words at him hurriedly. “What was 
your father’s name?” 

“He was always known as Captain Tower, 
but I have read it in my papers — his first 
name was Ambrose.” 

She had risen to her feet, in evident agita- 
tion, and now strode across to the rail. As 
he essayed to follow her, she turned, and 
forced the shadow of a smile into her lips ; 
her eyes remained frightened. “It is all 
right,” she said with a gasping attempt at 
reassurance. * ‘ I was queer for just an instant ; 
it’s all right. Go on, please. You were to 
get together your papers — ” 

“And bring them to Brighton,” he said, 
much disconcerted. “That is all. But 
won’t you sit down?” 


30 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“I think I would rather stand/’ she 
answered. Her composure was returning, 
and with it the power to view altogether, and 
in their proper relation to one another, the 
several elements of the situation his words 
had revealed to her. Upon examination, it 
was curiosity that she felt rather than per- 
sonal concern — an astonished and most 
exigent curiosity. But even before this, 
it grew apparent to her as she thought, came 
her honorable duty to this young man who 
had confided in her. 

“I think I ought to tell you,” she began, 
beckoning him nearer where she stood; “yes, 
you should be told that in all human proba- 
bility I know the story. It is impossible that 
I should be mistaken — two such names never 
got together by accident. And I can assure 
you that the whole thing is even more extra- 
ordinary and astounding than you can pos- 
sibly imagine. There are people in England 
who will curl up like leaves thrown on the 
fire when they see you. But for the 
moment” — she paused, with a perplexed 
face and hesitating voice — “go on; tell me a 
little more. It isn’t clear to me — how much 
you know. Don’t be afraid; I will be 
entirely frank with you, when you have 
finished. ’ ’ 

He patted the rail nervously with his hand, 
31 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and stared at her in pained bewilderment 
and impatience. “How much do I know?” 
he faltered vaguely. “Very little; almost 
nothing. There was no explanation in the 
letter. The bankers said nothing, save that 
they were to give me a thousand francs. 
But one does not get a thousand francs 
merely because the wind has changed. 
There must be a reason for it; and what 
reason is possible except that there is some 
inheritance for me? So I argued it out — to 
myself. I have thought of nothing else, 
awake or asleep, for the whole week. ’ ’ 

He halted, with anxious appeal in his eyes, 
and his hands outspread to beseech enlight- 
enment from her. She nodded to show that 
she understood. “In a minute or two, when 
I have got it into shape in my mind, ’ * she 
said soothingly. “But meantime go on. I 
want you to talk. What have you done 
during the week?’ ’ 

Christian threw his hands outward. 
“Done?” he asked plaintively. “Murdered 
time some way or the other, I was free to 
move an hour after I had read the letter. The 
money was more than I had ever had before. 
It was intolerable to me— the thought of not 
being in motion. In the ‘Indicateur’ I got 
the times of trains, and I formed my plan. 
Avignon I had never seen, and then Le 


32 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Puy — there was a wonderful description of 
it in a magazine I had read — and then to 
Paris, and next to Rouen. It was at Rouen 
that I slept last night. It was my first 
night’s good sleep — I had tired myself out 
so completely. Always walking with the 
map in my mind, going from one church to 
another, talking to the Suisse, bending back 
my head to examine capitals and arches, 
forcing myself to take an interest in what I 
saw every little minute — so I have come 
somehow through the week. But now here 
is rich England within plain sight, and here 
are you, my new friend — and all my life I 
have been so poor and without friends!” 

He tightened his hand upon the rail, and 
abruptly turned his face away. She saw the 
shine of tears in his eyes. 

“Come and sit down again,” she said, 
with a sisterly hand on his arm. “I know 
how to tell it to you now. ’ ’ 

“But you truly know nothing about the 
Towers — or Torrs — your father’s family?” 
she continued, when they were once again 
seated. ‘ * It sounds incredible ! I can hardly 
realize how you could have lived all these 
years and not — but how old are you? ” 
“Twenty-six.” 

“ — And not got some inkling of who — of 
who your father was?” 


33 


GLORIA MUNDI 


4 ‘My mother never told me. Perhaps she 
did not know altogether, herself. I cannot 
say as to that. And if Salvator knew — that 
I cannot tell, either. He is a curious man, 
my brother Salvator. He talks so you would 
think you saw him inside out — but he keeps 
many things to himself none the less. ’ ’ 

“Yes — that brother of yours,” she said 
abstractedly. “I have been thinking about 
him. But it can’t be that he has any impor- 
tance in the game, else the Jews would have 
sent for him instead of you. They waste no 
time,- — they make no errors.” 

“The Jews!” he murmured at her, with 
no comprehension in his eyes. 

She smiled. 4 ‘ I have been arranging it in 
my mind. The thing was like a black fog to 
me when you first spoke. I had to search 
about for a light before I could make a start. 
But when I stumbled across the thought, 
‘It is the Jews’ work,' then it was not very 
hard to make out the rest. I could almost 
tell you who it is that is to meet you at 
Brighton. It is Mr. Soman. Is it not?” 

He assented with an impulsive movement 
of head and hands. The gaze that he fixed 
upon her sparkled with excitement. 

He is Lord Julius’ man of business, ’ ’ she 
explained to his further mystification. “No 
doubt he has had one of those green eyes of 
34 


GLORIA MUNDI 


his on yon ever since you were a fortnight 
old. It frightens one to think of it — the 
merciless and unerring precision of their 
system. Is there anything they don't know?” 

‘‘I am afraid of Jews myself, ” he faltered, 
striving to connect himself with what he 
dimly perceived of her mood. “But what 
have they against me? What can they do to 
me? I owe nothing; they can’t make me 
responsible for what other people, strangers 
to me, have done, can they? And why should 
they give me a thousand francs? It is I,” 
he finished hopelessly, “I who am in the 
black fog. Tell me, I beg you, what is it 
that they want with me?” 

She put a reassuring hand upon his arm, 
and the steady, genial light in her calm eyes 
brought him instantaneous solace. “You 
have not the slightest cause for fear,” she 
told him, gently. “Quite the contrary. 
They are not going to hurt you. So far 
from it, they have taken you up ; they will 
wrap you in cotton-wool and nurse you as if 
you were the Koh-i-noor diamond. You 
may rest easy, my dear sir ; you may close 
your eyes, and fold your hands, and lean 
back against Israel as heavily as you like. 
It is all right so far as you are concerned. 
But the others” — she paused, and looked 
seaward with lifted brows and a mouth 


35 


GLORIA MUNDI 


twisted to express sardonic comment upon 
some amazing new outlook — “eye-ee! the 
others!” 

‘‘Still you do not tell me!” For the first 
time she caught in his voice the hint of a 
virile, and even an imperious note. Behind 
the half-petulant entreaty of the tired boy, 
there was a man’s spirit of dictation. She 
deferred to it unconsciously. 

‘‘The Lord Julius that I spoke of is — let me 
see — he is your great-uncle — your grand- 
father’s younger brother.” 

‘‘But if he is a Jew — ” began Christian, in 
an awed whisper. 

‘‘No — no; he is nothing of the sort. That 
is to say, he is not Jewish in blood. But he 
married a great heiress of the race — whole 
millions sterling came to him from the huge 
fortune of the Aronsons in Holland — and 
he likes Jewish people — of the right sort. He 
is an old man now, and his son, Emanuel, 
has immense influence over him. You 
should see them sitting together like two 
love-birds on a perch. They idolize each 
other, and they both worship Emanuel’s 
wife. If they weren’t the two best men in 
the world, and if she weren’t the most 
remarkable woman anywhere, they would 
utterly spoil her.” 

‘‘He — this lord — is my great-uncle, ” 
36 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian recalled her to his subject. ‘‘He 
and his son are good men. ’ ’ 

“They are the ones I referred to as the 
Jews. That is how they are spoken of in 
the family — to distinguish them from the 
senior branch — the sons and grandsons of 
your grandfather. Fix that distinction m 
you mind. There is the elder group, who 
have titles and miles of mortgaged estates, 
no money to speak of and still less brains — ’ ’ 

“That is the group that I belong to?” 
He offered the interruption with a little 
twinkle in his eyes. It was patent that his 
self-possession had returned. Even this lim- 
ited and tentative measure of identification 
with the most desirable and deep-rooted 
realities in that wonderful island that he 
could see coming nearer to meet him, had 
sufficed to quell the restless flutter of his 
nerves. 

She nodded with a responsive gleam of 
sportiveness on her face. “Yes, your place 
in it is a very curious one. But first get this 
clear in your mind — that the younger group, 
whom they speak of as the Jews, have money 
beyond counting, and have morals and intel- 
ligence moreover. Between these two 
groups no love is lost. In fact, they hate 
each other. The difference is the Christians 
go about cursing the Jews, whereas the Jews 
37 


GLORIA MUNDI 


wisely shrug their shoulders and say noth- 
ing. No one suspected that they would do 
anything, either — but — oh, this is going to 
be an awful business ! * ’ 

He held himself down to a fine semblance 
of dignified calm. “Tell me more,” he bade 
her, with an effect of temperate curiosity. 

“Now comes tragedy,” she went on, and 
the hint of sprightliness disappeared from her 
face and tone. “It is really one of the most 
terrible stories that could be told. There is 
a very aged man — he must be nearly ninety 
— lying at death’s door in his great seat in 
Shropshire. He is at death’s door, I said, 
but he has the strength and will of a giant, 
and though he is half paralyzed, half blind, 
half everything, still he has his weight 
against the door, and no one knows how 
long he can hold it closed. It is your grand- 
father that I am speaking of. His name 
also is Christian. ’ ’ 

The young man nodded gravely. “My 
father would have fought death that way 
too, if they had not shot him to pieces, and 
heaped fever on top of that,” he com- 
mented. 

The girl bit her lip and flushed awkwardly 
for an instant ‘ ‘ Let me go on, ’ ’ she said 
then, and hurried forward. “This old man 
had three sons — not counting the priest, 
38 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Lord David, who doesn’t come into the 
thing. The first of these sons, also Chris- 
tian, had three sons, and he and they were 
all alive six months ago. They are all dead 
now, two drowned in their yacht, one lost 
in the ‘Castle Drummond,’ one killed in 
Matabeleland. Lord David, the priest, the 
next brother, died last year — childless of 
course. There remained in England two 
sons of another brother who died some years 
ago, Lord Edward, and this horrible mow- 
ing down of human lives left them appar- 
ently nearest to the very aged man, your 
grandfather. Do you follow all that?” 

“I think I do,” said Christian. “If I 
don’t I will pick it up afterward. In 
mercy’s name, do not stop!” 

“The Jews, saying nothing, had lost sight 
of nothing. There was still another brother 
who had lived abroad for many years, who 
died abroad twenty years ago. You are 
getting to the climax now. The Jews must 
have kept an eye on this wandering cousin 
of theirs ; it is evident they knew he left a 
son capable of inheriting, and that they 
did not let this son escape . from view. 
Because Lord Ambrose Torr was older than 
Lord Edward, his brother, it happens now 
that the son of that Ambrose — ” 

The young man abruptly rose, and moved 
39 


GLORIA MUNDI 


along to the rail. He had signified "by a 
rapid backward gesture of the hand his 
momentary craving for solitude ; he stretched 
this hand now slowly, as if unconsciously, 
toward the sunset glow on sky and sea, in 
the heart of which lay imbedded a thick line 
of cream-colored cliffs, escalloped under a 
close covering of soft olive-hued verdure. 
The profile of his uplifted face, as he gazed 
thus before him into the light, seemed to 
the eyes of the girl transfigured. 

He stood thus, rapt and motionless, for 
minutes, until her mind had time to formu- 
late the suspicion that this was all intoler- 
able play-acting, and to dismiss it again as 
unworthy. Then he returned all at once to 
her side, apparently with a shamefaced kind 
of perception of her thoughts. He was 
flushed and uneasy, and shuffled his hands 
in and out of the pockets of his great-coat. 
He did not seat himself, but stood looking 
down at her. 

“What is my grandfather?” he asked, 
with a husky, difficult voice. 

“The Duke of Glastonbury.” 

“I do not understand,” he began, hesi- 
tatingly; “it is not clear to me about my 
father. Why should he — ” 

She rose in turn, with swift decision, as if 
she had been alertly watching for the ques- 
40 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tion. “That is what you must not ask me,” 
she said, hurriedly. “I think I will move 
about a little. The wind is colder here. I 
am getting chilled. ” 

They strolled about together, conducting 
a fitful conversation, but as often gazing in 
silence at the bulk of the headlands they 
were approaching, gray and massive now in 
the evening light. She answered freely 
enough the queries he put, but between 
these he lapsed into an abstraction which she 
respected. More than once he spoke of the 
extraordinary confusion into which her story 
had thrown his thoughts, and she philo- 
sophically replied that she could well under- 
stand it. 

An hour later they had passed the fatuous 
inspection of the customs people, and con- 
fronted the imminence of leave-taking. 
Constraint enveloped them as in a mantle. 

It occurred suddenly to him to say : 4 4 How 
strange! You possess the most extraordi- 
nary knowledge of me and my — my people, 
and yet the thought just comes to me — I 
have not so much as asked your name.” 

She smiled at him with a new light in her 
eyes, half kind, half ironically roguish. “If 
I may confess it, there have been times to- 
day when I was annoyed with you for being 
so persistently and indefatigably interested 
41 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in yourself — for never dreaming of wonder- 
ing, speculating, inquiring something about 
me. But that was very weak of me — I see 
it now — and very wise of you, because — 
what does it matter about a nobody like 
me? — but next week the whole world will be 
bearing witness that you are the most inter- 
esting young man in England.” 

He gave a swift glance down the train 
toward the guards noisily shutting the doors. 
“No, it is too bad,” he said, nervously. 
“You will always be my first friend in 
England — my very deeply prized friend 
everywhere. I know you only to-day — but 
that day is more to me than all the rest of 
my life — and it is full of you. They are 
closing the doors — but you will tell me? 
The notion of not seeing you again is ridicu- 
lous. You are in London — yes? — then how 
do you think I could come to London with- 
out first of all, before everything else, want- 
ing to call upon you?” 

“Oh, I daresay we shall meet again,” she 
answered, as perforce he stepped into the 
compartment. Her smile had a puzzling 
quality in it — something compounded, it 
seemed to him, of both fear and fun. “In 
a remote kind of way I am mixed up with 
the story myself. ’ ’ 

There was no time for any hope of further 


42 


GLORIA MUNDI 


explanation. He put his head out of the 
window, and shook hands again. ‘ ‘ Remem- 
ber ! ” he called out fervently. “You are my 
first friend in England. Whenever — what- 
ever I can do — ” 

“Even to the half of your kingdom!" she 
laughed at him, as the movement of the 
carriage drew him past her. 

The tone of these last words, which he 
bore away with him, had been gay — almost 
jovial. But the girl, when she had watched 
him pass out of sight, turned and walked 
slowly off in the direction of her own train 
with a white and troubled face. 


*3 



CHAPTER III 


Many builders in their day have put a 
hand to the making of Caermere Hall. 
Though there were wide differences of race 
and language among them and though the 
long chain of time which binds them together 
has generations and even centuries for its 
links, they seem to have had thus much in 
common: they were all at feud with the 
sunlight. 

On the very pick of summer days, when 
the densest thickets of Clune Forest are alive 
to the core with moving green reflections of 
the outer radiance, and hints of the glory up 
above pierce their way to the bottom of the 
narrowest ravine through which the black 
Devor churns and frets, somehow Caermere 
remains wrapped in its ancient shadows. 

The first men, in some forgotten time, 
laid its foundations with no thought save of 
the pass at the foot to be defended. Later 
artificers reared thick walls upon these 
foundations, pushed out towered curtains, 
sank wells, lifted the keep, cut slits of corner 
windows or crowned the fabric with new 


45 


GLORIA MUNDI 


turrets for watchmen, each after the need or 
fashion of his age, but all with minds single 
to the idea of blocking the path that 
Caermere overhung. In due time came the 
breath of the king’s peace, blowing equably 
over the vexed marches, albeit loaded with 
the scent of gunpowder, and my lords slowly 
put aside their iron harness for silken 
jackets, and unslung the herses in their gate- 
ways. Men of skill set now about the task 
of expanding the turfed spaces within the 
inclosure, of spreading terraces and forming 
gardens, of turning stone chambers into 
dames’ apartments, and sullen guard-rooms 
into banquet-halls. Their grandsons, in 
turn, pulled down even more than they 
erected; where the mightiest walls had 
shouldered their huge bulk, these men of 
Elizabeth and James left thin fagades of 
brickwork, and beams of oak set in a trivial 
plaster casing. The old barbican was not 
broad enough to span their new roadway, 
stretching to the valley below over the track 
of the former military path, and they blew 
it up ; the pleasure-ground, which they 
extended by moving far backward the wall 
of the tilting yard, was bare of aspect to 
their eye, and they planted it with yews and, 
later, with cedars from the Lebanon. 

Through all these changes, Caermere 
46 


GLORIA MUNDI 


remained upon its three sides shadowed by 
great hills, and the thought of making wide 
windows in the walls on the open fourth side 
came to no one. When at last, in the earlier 
Georgian time, the venerable piles of 
bastioned masonry here were replaced by a 
feebly polite front of lath and stucco, win- 
dows were indeed cut to the very floor, in 
the French style, but meanwhile the trees 
had grown into a high screen against the 
sky, and it was not in the Torr blood to level 
timber. 

When a house and family have lived 
together for a thousand years, it is but 
reasonable that they should have come to 
an understanding with each other. Was 
Caermere dark because the mood of the Torrs, 
its makers and masters, had from the dawn 
of things been saturnine? Or did the Torrs 
owe their historic gloom and dourness of 
temperament to the influence of this somber 
cradle of their race? There is record of the 
query having been put, in a spirit of banter, 
by a gentleman who rode over Clune bridge 
in the train of King John. Of convincing 
answer there is none to this latest day. The 
Torrs are a dark folk, and Caermere is a 
dark house. They belong to one another 
and that is all. 

Thus, on the first morning of October, a 


47 


GLORIA MUNDI 


gray and overcast morning even on the hill- 
tops, and though it was past the half-hour 
towards nine, there was barely light enough 
to see one’s way about by in the big break- 
fast-room. 

A tall young man in rough, light-brown 
clothes stood at one of the windows, drum- 
ming idly on the glass and staring at the 
black cedars beyond the lawn. At intervals 
he whistled under his breath, in a sulky 
fashion, some primitive snatches of an 
unknown tune. Once or twice he yawned, 
and then struck a vicious ring from the 
panes with his hard nails, in protesting com- 
ment upon his boredom. 

About the large fireplace behind him were 
dishes huddled for heat, and their metallic 
gleam in the flicker of the flames was 
repeated farther away in the points of red 
on the plate and glass of the long breakfast 
table spread in the center of the room. 
From time to time a white -faced young- 
ster in livery entered the room, performed 
some mysterious service at the hearth or 
the table in the dim twilight and went out 
again. 

The man at the window paid no heed to 
the goings and comings of the servant, but 
when the door opened presently and another 
tweed-clad figure entered, his ear told him 
48 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the difference on the instant, and he half 
turned his head. 

“In God’s name, what are you all doing?” 
he growled angrily. “I said eight — you 
heard me ! — sharp eight ! ’ ’ 

“What does it matter?” protested the new- 
comer, stooping at the fire-place to lift the 
covers from the dishes in a languid inspec- 
tion of their contents. He yawned as he 
spoke. “If you won’t let fellows go to bed 
till four, how the devil do you expect them 
to be down at eight?” 

“Oh, is that you, Pirie?” said the man at 
the window. ‘ ‘ I thought it was my brother. ’ ’ 

The other stood for a moment, with his 
back to the fire. Then he lounged to the 
window, stretching his arms as he moved. 
He also was tall, but with a scattering of 
gray in his hair. 

“Beastly black morning,” he commented 
in drowsy tones, after a prolonged observa- 
tion of the prospect. 4 4 Might as well stopped 
in bed. ” 

“Well, go back then!” snapped the other. 
“I didn’t make the rotten weather, did I?” 

This was wanton ill-temper. The elder 
man also began drumming with his nails on 
the window. “Turn it up, Eddy,” he 
remonstrated, smoothly enough, but with a 
latent snarl in his tone. “I don’t like it.” 


49 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The younger man moved his head, as if 
he would have looked his companion in the 
face. Then he stared away again, out of the 
window. 

“Beaters been waitin’ half an hour 
already,” he grumbled, sulkily. “What’s 
the good of makin’ a time if you don’t keep 
it?” 

“I didn’t make any time,” responded 
Major Pirie with curtness. Upon reflection, 
he added: “What does it matter about the 
beaters?” 

There seemed no answer to this, and for 
several minutes nothing was said. Finally 
the younger man thought of something. ‘ ‘ I 
say, ’ ’ he began, and after an instant’s pause 
went on: “It’d suit me better not to be 
called ‘Eddy’ among the men, d’ye see? 
That fellow Burlington began it last night — 
he got it from you — and I don’t like it. 
When we’re alone, of course, that’s 
different.” 

Major Pirie laughed — a dry, brief, harsh 
laugh — and swung around on his heels. 
“Your man didn’t get those sausages I 
asked for, after all,” he remarked, going 
back to the dishes at the fender. 

“Probably couldn’t,” said Mr. Edward, 
“or else,” he added, “wouldn’t. I never 
saw such a houseful of brutes and duffers. 


50 


GLORIA MUNDI 


I’m keen to shunt the lot of ’em, and they 
know it, the beggars. You’d think they’d 
try to suck up to me, but they don’t, they 
haven’t got brains enough.” 

The major had brought a plate from the 
table, and was filling it from under the 
covers on the hearth. “Shall I ring for the 
tea?” he asked. 

Mr. Edward moved across to the chimney 
corner and pulled the cord himself. “Do 
you know what that old ass, Barlow — the 
butler, you know — had the face to say to me 
yesterday? ‘I’ — God, you couldn’t believe 
it! ‘I ’ope, sir,’ he says, ‘you’ll think better 
of shootin’ on the First, for His Grace’ll hear 
the guns in the covers, and it won’t do His 
Grace no good. ’ Fancy the beggar’s cheek !” 

“Well, do you know, Torr, ” said Major 
Pirie, slowly, speaking with his mouth full 
but contriving to give a significantly nice 
emphasis to the name, “I was thinkin’ much 
the same myself. For that matter, several 
of the fellows were mentionin’ it. It doesn’t 
look quite the thing, you know. ’ ’ 

The entrance of the servant created an 
interval of silence, during which Mr. Edward 
in his turn rummaged among the dishes 
before the fire. 

“It’s Gus, is it?” he demanded, from 
where he knelt on one knee, plate in hand. 


5i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“He thought it would be funny to queer my 
game, eh?” 

“Your brother hasn’t said a word, so far’s 
I know,” replied the major, pouring his 
tea. “It was merely some of the fellows, 
talkin’.’’ 

“God Almighty!” cried Mr. Edward, 
springing to his feet. “Here’s a precious 
outfit of pals for you! You come down 
here, so help me — ” 

“Don’t say ‘you’; say ‘they,’ if you’ve 
got to say anything,” interposed the major, 
quietly. 

“Well, they, then,” the other went on, in 
loud heat. “They come down here, and 
take my mounts, by God; they drink my 
wine, they win my money, they drain me 
dry — and then they go behind my back and 
whisper to one another that I’m an out- 
sider. And you too, Pirie,” he continued, 
with defiance and deprecation mingled in his 
tone, “you admit yourself that you talked 
with them. ’ ’ 

“My dear Torr,” replied the major, “it’s 
a mistake for you to turn out so early. 
You’ve tried to quarrel before breakfast 
every day I’ve been here. It’s the worst 
morning temper I ever heard of in my life. 
You ought to have tea and eggs and things 
brought to you in your room, and not show 
52 


GLORIA MUNDI 


yourself for at least two hours afterward — 
you really ought. It isn’t fair to your 
friends. ’ ’ 

The door opened and still another tall 
man came in. He nodded to Pirie as he 
passed him, with a tolerant “Well, major,” 
and went straight to the dishes by the fire. 

“ Pirie ’s got it into his head we oughtn’t 
to shoot to-day, Gus, ’ ’ said Mr. Edward. 

The other rose with a dish in his hands. 

“It is dark,” he assented, glancing toward 
the window. “Afraid of pottin’ a beater, 
major?” 

“No — it’s about the duke,” explained 
Edward. “It seems some of the fellows 
funk the thing — they think he’ll hear the 
guns — they want to go to church instead, or 
something of that sort. ’ ’ 

Augustine Torr, M.P., looked at his 
brother inquiringly. The tie of blood 
between them was obvious enough. They 
were both slender as well as tall ; their small 
round heads merging indistinguishably be- 
hind into flat, broad necks, seemed identical 
in contour; they had the same light coarse 
hair, the same florid skins, even the same 
little yellow mustaches. The differences 
were harder to seek. Edward, though he 
had borne Her Majesty’s commission for 
some years, was not so well set up about the 
53 


GLORIA MUNDI 


shoulders as his younger and civilian brother. 
Augustine, on the other hand, despite his 
confident carriage of himself, produced the 
effect of being Edward’s inferior in simple 
force of character. It was at once to his 
credit and his disparagement that he had the 
more amiable nature of the two. 

“How do you mean — the duke?” he asked. 
“Is there a change?” 

Edward put out his closed lips a little, and 
shook his head. Major Pirie sprinkled salt 
on his muffin while he explained. 

“All there is of it is this,” he said. 
“There was just an idea that with the — 
with your grandfather — dyin’ in the house — 
it might look a little better to give the first 
the go-by. Nobod} T ’d have a word to say 
against shootin’ to-morrow.” 

“Well, but what the hell” — Augustine 
groped his way with hesitancy — “I don’t 
understand — we’ve been shootin’ partridges 
for a month, and how are pheasants any 
different? And as for the duke — why, of 
course one’s sorry and all that — but he’s 
been dyin’ since June, and the birds have 
some rights — or rather, I should say — what 
I mean is — ” 

“That’s what I said,” put in Edward, 
to cover the collapse of his brother’s argu- 
ment. 


54 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Major Pirie frowned a little. “Partridges 
are another matter,” he said testily. 

“Damned if I know what you’re driving 
at,” avowed Augustine. He paused with 
fork in air at his own words. “Drivin’ at,” 
he repeated painstakingly. “Drivin’ at 
pheasants, eh? Not bad, you know. Pass 
the mustard, Pirie. ” 

“God!” said the major, with gloom. 
“You know well enough what I mean. To 
work through fields miles off — that’s one 
thing. To shoot the covers here under the 
duke’s nose, with the beaters messin’ about — 
that’s quite another. However that's your 
affair, not mine. ” 

“But don’t you see,” urged Augustine, 
“what difference does a day make? There’ll 
be just as much racket to-morrow as to-day. 
It isn’t reasonable, you know.” 

“It was merely what you might call a 
sentiment,” said the major, in the half 
apologetic tone of a man admitting defeat. 
He looked the least sentimental of warriors 
as he went on with his breakfast — a long- 
faced, weather-beaten, dull-eyed man of the 
late forties. 

Four other men who came in now at brief 
intervals, with few or no words of salutation 
to the company, and who lounged about 
helping themselves to what caught their 
55 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fancy in the breakfast, were equally removed 
from the suspicion of adding a sentimental 
element to the atmosphere. They made 
little talk of any kind, and no mention what- 
ever of that absurd qualm about the First 
which had been reported to have germinated 
among them. 

Edward had reached the stage of filling his 
pipe. Walking to the mantel for a light, it 
occurred to him to ring the bell first. “Her 
ladyship breakfastin’ in her room?” he asked 
the youngster who answered the summons. 

“Her ladyship’s woman has just gone up 
with it, sir, ’ ’ he replied. 

“ That's all right,’’ said Edward, and 
forthwith struck the match. 4 ‘ Send in Davis 
and Morton to me, and ask Barlow for those 
Brazilian cigars of mine — the small huntin’ 
ones. What wheels were those I heard on 
the gravel? If it’s the traps we shan’t want 
them to-day. We’re walkin’ across.” 

“I will make inquiries, sir,” said the 
domestic, and went out. 

The room had brightened perceptibly, and 
Captain Edward was in a better temper. He 
moved over to the sideboard and filled a 
pocket-flask from one of the decanters in the 
old-fashioned case. As an afterthought, he 
also filled a small glass, and gulped its con- 
tents neat. “We’re off in ten minutes 
s6 


GLORIA MUNDI 


now,” he called out to the men about the 
table, some of whom had already lit their 
pipes. “What do you fellows want to take 
with you? My tip is this rum.” 

“Hardly cold enough for rum, is it?” 
asked one, drifting languidly toward the 
sideboard. Most of the others had risen to 
their feet. 

A slender, sad-faced, gentlemanly-looking 
old man in evening clothes had entered the 
room, and stood now at Captain Edward’s 
elbow and touched it with his hand. “I — 
beg — your — pardon — sir,” he said, in the 
conventional phrase. 

Edward, listening to what a companion 
was saying, turned absent-mindedly to the 
butler. Then he happened to remember 
something. “Damn you, Barlow, you get 
duller every day ! ” he snapped. “You know 
perfectly well what cigars I take out of 
doors!” 

‘ ‘ I — beg — your — pardon — sir, ’ ’ repeated 
the elderly person. He spoke in a confi- 
dential murmur. “I thought you would like 
to know, sir — Lord Julius has come.” 

The young man looked at him, silently 
revolving the intelligence, a puzzled frown 
between his pale brows. A furtive some- 
thing in the butler’s composed expression 
struck him. “What of it?” he demanded, 


57 


GLORIA MUNDI 


angrily. “What are you whispering for? 
He’s old enough to take care of himself, isn’t 
he?’’ 

The butler thrust out his dry underlip a 
trifle. 4 4 1 thought you would like to know, 
sir,” he reiterated. 

“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t like to 
know!” The man’s tone — an indefinable, 
lurking suggestiveness in his face and eyes 
and voice — vexed Mr. Edward exceedingly. 
It annoyed him still more to note that his 
companions had tacitly turned their backs, 
and were affecting great preoccupation in 
something else. 

He kept a wrathful eye on Barlow, as the 
latter bowed, turned, moved to the door and 
opened it. Of course, a man musn’t slang 
servants, his irritated thought ran, but the 
covert impertinence in this old menial’s 
manner was something no longer to be 
borne. The impulse to call the elderly fool 
back and send him packing on the instant, 
tingled hotly in the young man’s blood. He 
even opened his lips to speak, but reflection 
checked his tongue. It would be bad form, 
for one thing; for another, perhaps he was 
not quite in the position to dismiss his grand- 
father’s servants. He would speak to Well- 
don, the estate steward, instead — a sensible 
and civil man, by the way, who seemed to 
58 


GLORIA MUNDI 


know which side his bread was buttered on. 
At the merest hint from the heir, Welldon 
would give Barlow the sack, and that would 
teach the rest a lesson. But all this would 
keep until Lord Julius had gone. Being an 
aged duffer himself, he would probably side 
with Barlow — and there was no point in 
offending Lord Julius. Very much to the 
contrary, indeed. 

Mr. Edward’s meditations, unwontedly 
facile in their movements for him, had 
reached this point, when his mind reverted 
to the fact that he was still regarding the 
back of Barlow, who, instead of going out, 
stood holding the door open, his lean figure 
poised in ceremonious expectancy. Even 
as the surprised Edward continued looking, 
the butler made a staid obeisance. 

A stalwart, erect, burly old gentleman 
came in, and halted just over the threshold 
to look about him. He had the carriage, 
dress and general aspect of a prosperous and 
opinionated farmer. The suggestion of acres 
and crops was peculiarly marked in the 
broad, low soft hat on his head, and in the 
great white beard which spread fan-wise 
over his ample breast. He had the face of 
one who had spent a life in commanding 
others, and had learned meanwhile to master 
himself — a frank, high-featured, ruddy face, 


59 


GLORIA MUNDI 


with a conspicuously prominent and well- 
curved nose, and steady, confident eyes. He 
folded his hands over his stick and, holding 
his head well back, glanced about the room 
at his ease. It was a glance from which the 
various eyes that it encountered somehow 
turned away. 

“How-do, Eddy? How-do, Gus?” the 
newcomer said impassively to the two young 
men who, with palpable constraint, came up 
to greet him. He shook hands with each, 
but seemed more interested in viewing the 
company at large. His appearance had pro- 
duced a visible effect of numbness upon the 
group of guests, but he seemed not to mind 
this. 

“Quite a party!” he observed. His voice 
was full and robust, and not unamiable. 
“All military?” 

Edward nodded. “All but Gus, here. 
Glad to introduce ’em, if you like,” he 
murmured, with a kind of sullen deference. 

“Presently, presently,” said Lord Julius, 
with an effect of heartiness at which Edward 
lifted his head. 

“Drive over from Clune this morning?” 
the young man asked. “Then you’ll want 
breakfast. Ring the bell, Gus. We’re just 
starting for the Mere copse. Glad to have 
you make an eighth gun, if you’ll come to 
60 


GLORIA MUND1 

us after you’ve eaten. You still shoot, don’t 
you?” 

“Oh, yes, I still shoot,” said the other. 

Edward had a sense of embarrassment at 
his great-uncle’s immobility in the doorway. 
“Well, we’ll get along to the gun-room 
now,” he said to the others. Then to Lord 
Julius he remarked with an air of making 
conversation, “I always say to the fellows 
that I ask nothing better in this world than 
to be as fit as you are when I’m your age. 
Let’s see, seventy-six, isn’t it?” 

The elder man nodded. “I’m sure that’s 
a modest enough ambition,” he observed. 
His steady gray eyes dallied with the young 
man’s countenance for a moment. “I’m 
relieved to learn that you want nothing 
more than that. ’ ’ 

Edward looked up swiftly, and braved an 
instant’s piercing scrutiny of the other’s 
face. Then he laughed, uneasily. “Oh, I 
want a few other things, too.” 

Lord J ulius lowered his voice. 4 ‘ I would 
put among your wants a trifling matter 
of good taste, Eddy, ’ ’ he said, not un- 
kindly. 

Captain Edward flushed. “If I could see 
that it really made any difference between 
the First and the Second, ’ ’ he answered with 
dogged civility, “I wouldn’t shoot until to- 
61 


GLORIA MUNDI 


morrow. If you’re keen about it now, 
I’ll—” 

“Oh, damn your First and Second,” broke 
in the old man, keeping his voice down 
below the hearing of the others, but letting 
impatience glow in his eyes; “you had no 
business bringing these men here at all. 
No — I see that you don’t understand me. 
You needn’t explain. It’s entirely a ques- 
tion of feeling.” 

“I’m sorry you take that view of it, sir,” 
said Edward, gloomily. “You know that I’m 
willing enough to meet your views — if only — 
if only because I’m going to need your help. ” 
Lord Julius gave a snort of contemptuous 
laughter, and nodded to himself with lifted 
brows. “Really something in the way of 
consideration is due to such frankness as 
that,” he said, with a pretense of reverie. 
“Send your friends out of the room, Eddy,” 
he went on, more gently — “make what 
excuse you like — or take them out and come 
back to me — that’s better. I did intend to 
have no secrets from them, but I’ve relented. 
And yes — by the way — instead of coming 
here — you’ll find me in the small morning 
room I will breakfast there. You’ve filled 
this room with smoke. ’ ’ 

“Would you — would you mind my bring- 
ing Gus?” Edward asked, doubtfully. 

62 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The other thought for an instant. “Oh, 
yes, Gus may come, ’ ’ he said, and with that 
left the room. 

“Rum old beggar, isn’t he?” said Augus- 
tine to the company, with the sense that 
something had to be said. 

“Gad! he seemed to think he was in a 
synagogue!’’ laughed Captain Burlington. 
“Kept his hat on, you know,’’ he explained 
in the next breath to the surprised and 
attentive faces about him. 

“But he isn’t a Jew,’’ said one of the 
others with gravity. “He married one, but 
that doesn’t make him one, you know.’’ 

“It was a joke! Can’t you see a joke?” 
protested Burlington. 

“Well, I don’t think much of it,” growled 
Edward, sourly. “Come along to the gun- 
room. ’ ’ 

* * * * * 

“What’s up?” asked Mr. Augustine, in an 
anxious murmur, a few minutes later, as the 
two brothers walked along the wide central 
hallway toward the appointed place. 

“Can’t think for the life of me,” replied 
Edward. “Unless Craven babbled about 
the baccarat when he got up to town. He’s 
rather that sort, you know. He kicked about 
the stakes at the time. ’ ’ 

“Yes — after he’d been hit,” said Augus- 
63 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tine. “But if it’s only that, you’ll be an ass 
to let the old man rot you about it. Just 
stand up to him, and let him see you feel 
your position. ’ ’ 

“That’s all right,” rejoined Edward, 
dubiously, “but what’s the position without 
money? If anybody could have foreseen 
what was going to happen — damn it all, I 
could have married as much as I needed. 
But as it is, I’ve got Cora on my back, and 
the kid, and — my God! fancy doing the duke 
on four thou, a year net! Welldon tells me 
it can’t be screwed a bit above that. Well, 
then, how can I afford to cheek Julius? 
When you come to that he isn’t half a bad 
sort, you know. He stood my marriage 
awfully 'tfrell. Gad, you know, we couldn’t 
have lived if he hadn’t drawn a check.’’ 

“Let us hope he’ll draw another,” said 
Augustine. ‘ ‘ It’s bad enough to be a pauper 
duke, but it’s a bailey sight worse to be his 
brother. ’ ’ 

“What rot!” said Edward. “My kid’s a 
girl, and you’re free to marry.” 

They had come to the door of the morning 
room. It stood ajar, and Edward pushed it 
open. Before the fireplace was visible the 
expected bulk and vast beard of Lord Julius, 
but the eyes of the brothers intuitively wan- 
dered to the window beyond, against which 
64 


GLORIA MUNDI 


was outlined the figure of a much smaller 
man. 

“Secretary," whispered the quicker- 
minded Augustine out of the corner of his 
mouth as they advanced. The thought 
brought them a tempered kind of comfort. 
The same instinct which had prompted 
Edward to crave his brother’s support led 
them both to welcome the presence of a 
fourth party. 

They looked again toward the stranger, 
and Lord Julius, as he caught their return- 
ing glance, smiled and nodded significantly. 
“Come here, Christian!” he said, and the 
brothers saw now that it was a slender 
young man with a dark, fine face and 
foreign-looking eyes who moved toward 
them. 

Lord Julius put a hand on the young man’s 
shoulder. “Christian,” he said, and gave 
his full voice a new note of gravity, “these 
are your two cousins, Mr. Edward Torr, a 
captain in the Hussars until recently, and 
Mr. Augustine Torr, a member of Parlia- 
ment. Your coming will make some differ- 
ence in their affairs, but I know that you 
will be good to them.” 

The brothers had shaken hands with the 
new-comer automatically, while their minds 
were in the first stage of wonderment as to 
65 


GLORIA MUNDI 


what the words being spoken about him 
meant. Now that silence fell, they stared 
slowly at him, at their great-uncle, at each 
other. 

“How — cousin?” Edward managed to ask. 
He spoke as if his tongue filled his mouth. 

“The son of your uncle, Lord Ambrose 
Torr,” the old man made quiet, carefully 
distinct answer. 

Another period of silence ensued, until 
Christian turned abruptly. “It is very pain- 
ful to me,” he said hurriedly to the old man, 
and walked to the window. 

“It is painful to everybody,” said Lord 
Julius. 

“Not so damned particularly painful to 
you, sir, I should say, ’ ’ put in Edward, look- 
ing his great-uncle in the face. The young 
man had slowly pulled himself together, 
and one could see the muscles of his neck 
being stiffened to keep his chin well in the 
air. His blue eyes had the effect of sum- 
moning all their resources of pride to gaze 
with dignity into the muzzle of a machine- 
gun. 

Augustine was less secure in the control 
of his nerves. He stood a little behind his 
brother, and the elbow which he braced 
against him for support trembled. His eyes 
wandered about the room, and he moistened 
66 


GLORIA MUNDI 


his lips with his tongue several times before 
he contrived to whisper something into Ed- 
ward’s ear. The latter received the sug- 
gestion, whatever it was, with an impatient 
shake of the head. 

“You scarcely do me justice,” said Lord 
Julius, quietly, “but that’s not worth men- 
tioning at the moment. I must say you are 
taking it very well — much better than I 
expected. ” 

Edward squared his shoulders still more. 
“I wouldn’t say that we’re takin’ it at all,” 
he replied, with studied deliberation. “You 
offer it, d’ye see — but it doesn’t follow that 
we take it. Y ou come and bring this young 
fellow — this young gentleman, and you tell 
me that he is Ambrose’s son. What good 
is that to me? Maybe he is, maybe he 
isn’t. Ambrose may have had twenty sons, 
for all I know. I should be sorry to be one 
of them — but they’re not to blame for that. 
I don’t mind being civil to them — if they 
come to me in the right spirit — ” He 
stopped abruptly, and listened with a frown 
to more whispering from Augustine. 

“You don’t seem to understand, Eddy — ” 
began Lord Julius. 

“Oh, perfectly!’’ broke in the young man. 
“I had an uncle who had to leave England 
before I was born. His name couldn’t even 
67 


GLORIA MUNDI 


be mentioned in the family — but I know all 
about him. God knows I’ve had him flung 
in my face often enough.” 

“Don’t let us go into that,” urged Lord 
Julius, softly, and with a sidelong nod 
toward the window. “It’s needless cruelty 
to other people — and surely we can discuss 
this like gentlemen. You are really behav- 
ing splendidly, Eddy.” 

“God! he thought we were cads!” cried 
Edward, in husky indignation. 

“No — no — no — no,” murmured the older 
man, soothingly. ‘ ‘ I only want you to grasp 
the thing as it is. You know me. You do 
not regard me as a foolish person who goes 
off half-cock. Well, I tell you that Christian 
here is the son of my nephew Ambrose, born 
in lawful wedlock, and that there is not a 
shadow of doubt about it. The proofs are 
all open to your inspection; there is not a 
flaw in them. And so I say to you, in all 
kindness — take it calmly and sensibly and 
like a gentleman. It is to your own interest 
to do so, as well. If you think, you will see 
that.” 

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” said 
Augustine, strenuously, from behind his 
brother’s shoulder. 

A faint smile fluttered about the old man’s 
eyelids. “It was the advice of a bom states- 
68 


GLORIA MUNDI 


man, ’ ’ he said, dryly. “You are the political 
hope of the family.” 

The stiffening had melted from Edward’s 
neck and shoulders. He turned irresolutely 
now, and looked at the floor. “Of course I 
admit nothing; I reserve all my rights, till 
my lawyers have satisfied themselves,” he 
said in a worn, depressed mutter. 

“Why, naturally,” responded Lord Julius, 
with relieved cordiality. “And now please 
me — do it all handsomely to the end — come 
and shake hands again with Christian, both 
of you. ’ ’ 

The brothers stood for a hesitating instant, 
then turned toward the window and began 
a movement of reluctant assent. 

To the surprise of all three, Christian 
forestalled their approach by wrenching 
open one half of the tall window, and put- 
ting a foot over the sill to the lawn outside. 

“If you will excuse me,” he said, in his 
nervous, high voice, “I am taking a little 
walk. ’ ’ 


69 




























CHAPTER IV 


Upon the garden side of Caermere is a 
very large conservatory, built nearly fifty 
years ago, at the close of the life of the last 
duchess. The poor lady left no other mark 
of her meek existence upon the buildings, 
and it was thought at the time that she would 
never have ventured upon even this, had it 
not been that every one was mad for the 
moment about the wonderful palace of glass 
reared in London for the First Exhibition. 

In area and height, and in the spacious 
pretensions of its dome, the structure still 
suggests irresistibly the period of its incep- 
tion. It is as ambitious as it is self-con- 
scious ; its shining respectability remains 
superior to all the wiles of climbers and 
creeping vines. The older servants cherish 
traditions of “Her Grace’s glass,” as it used 
to be called. She had the work begun on her 
fortieth birthday, and precisely a year later 
it happened that she was wheeled in from 
the big morning room, and left at her own 
desire to recline in solitude under the palms 
beneath the dome, and that when they went 


71 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to her at last she was dead. The circum- 
stance that Shakespeare is supposed also to 
have died on the anniversary of his birth, 
has somehow come to be an integral part of 
the story, as it . is kept alive now in the 
humbler parts of the Caermere household, 
but the duchess had nothing else in common 
with the poet. The very face of her, in her 
maturer years, is but dimly remembered. 
The portrait in the library is of a young 
Lady Clarissa, with pale ringlets and a child- 
ishly sweet countenance, and clad in the 
formal quaintness of the last year of King 
George the Fourth. She became the duch- 
ess, but in turn the duchess seemed to 
become somebody else. That was the way 
with the brides brought home to Caermere. 
The pictures in the library show them all 
girlish, and innocently pretty, and for the 
most part fair-haired. Happily there is no 
painted record of what they were like when, 
still in middle life, they bade a last good- 
bye to the dark-skinned, big-shouldered sons 
they had borne, and perhaps made a little 
moan that no daughters were ever given to 
mothers at Caermere, and turned their sad 
faces to the wall. 

The crystal house had memories of another 
and more recent mistress, the countess. 
She had come six years after the other went, 
72 


GLORIA MUND1 

she had lived for twelve years — a silent, 
colorless, gently unhappy life — and then had 
faded away out of sight. It was this Lady 
Porlock who had caused the orchid houses 
to be built at the inner side of the conserva- 
tory, and it was in her time, too, that the 
gifted Cheltnam was fetched from her own 
father’s house in Berkshire to be head 
gardener at Caermere. Her fame is in- 
deed irrevocably linked with his, for the 
tea-rose of his breeding, bearing her maiden- 
name of the Hon. Florence Denson, is 
scarcely less well known than this hybrid 
sweet-briar the Countess of Porlock. 

And now, in the third generation, still 
another lady had for some years enjoyed 
special property rights in this great glass 
apartment. 

Lady Cressage came into the conservatory 
from the large morning room, with a large 
volume in her hand, and an irresolute look 
on her face. She glanced about at the 
several couches piled with cushions and 
furs, at an easy-chair beyond — and yawned 
slightly. Then she wandered over to a 
row of early chrysanthemums, and, put- 
ting the book under her arm, occupied herself 
with the destruction of a few tiny beginnings 
of buds in the lower foliage. In this she 
employed as pincers the delicately tinted 
73 


GLORIA MUNDI 


nails of a very shapely finger and thumb, and 
at the sign of some slight discoloration of 
these she stopped the work. From a glance 
at the nails, she went to a musing scrutiny 
of this whole right hand of hers, holding it 
up, and turning it from one composition of 
graceful curves to another. It had been 
called the most beautiful hand in England, 
but this morning its owner, upon a brief 
and rather listless inspection of its charms, 
yawned again. Finally she seated herself 
in the chair and, after a languid search for 
the place in her book, began to read 

Half reclining thus, with the equable and 
shadowless light of the glass house about 
her, the young widow made a picture 
curiously different from any in the library 
within. All the dead and gone brides of 
the Torrs had been painted in bright attire ; 
Lady Cressage wore a belted gown of black 
cloth, unrelieved save by a softened line of 
white at the throat and wrists. The others, 
without exception, had signified by elaborate 
hair-dressing not less than by dutifully 
vacuous facial expressions, their compre- 
hension of the requirements of the place 
they had been called upon to fill; Lady 
Cressage* s bistre hair was gathered in care- 
less fashion to a loose knot at the back of the 
head, and in her exquisitely modeled face 
74 


GLORIA MUNDI 


there was no hint whatever of docility or 
awed submission to any external claims. 
The profile of this countenance, outlined for 
the moment against a cluster of vividly pur- 
ple pleroma blossoms, had the delicacy of a 
rare flower, but it conveyed also the impres- 
sion of resolute and enduring force. If the 
dome above could have generated voices of 
its own, these would have murmured to one 
another that here at last was a woman whom 
Caermere could not break or even easily 
bend. 

In the season of 1892, London had heard a 
good deal of this lady. She was unknown 
before, and of her belongings people to this 
day knew and cared very little. There was 
a General Kervick enumerated in the retired 
list, who had vegetated into promotion in 
some obscure corner of India, and now led 
an equally inconspicuous existence some- 
where in the suburbs — or was it in West 
Kensington? He had never belonged to a 
service club, but an occasional man encoun- 
tered him once in a while at the Oriental, 
where he was supposed by the waiters to 
have an exceptional knowledge of peppers 
and chutneys. The name of his wife had 
been vaguely associated with charitable com- 
mittees, or subscription committees, and 
here and there some one remembered having 


75 


GLORIA MUNDI 


heard that she was distantly related to some- 
body. The elder Kervicks never secured a 
much more definite place in London’s 
regard — even after this remarkable daughter 
had risen like a planet to dim the fixed stars 
of the season. 

The credit for having discovered and 
launched Miss Kervick came generally to be 
ascribed to Lady Selton, but perhaps this 
turned upon the fact that she lent her house 
in Park Lane for the culminating scene in the 
spectacular triumph of that young person. 
No doubt there were others who would have 
placed still bigger houses at the disposal of 
a bride whose wedding was, in many respects, 
the most interesting of the year, and some of 
these may have had as good a claim to the 
privilege as Lady Selton. As matters turned 
out, however, they were given no cause to 
repine. The marriage was not a success, 
and within one short year Lady Selton her* 
self had grown a little shy about assuming 
responsibility for it. A year later she was 
quite prepared to repudiate all share in it, 
and after that people ceased to remember 
about it all, until the shock of the tragedy 
came to stir polite London into startled 
whisperings. 

Hardly within the memory of living folk 
had a family been dealt such a swift suc- 
76 


GLORIA MUNDI 


cession of deadly blows as these which were 
rained upon the Torrs in the first half of 
1896. 

The Earl of Porlock had been the heir of 
dukedom since most people could remember, 
and had got himself called to the House of 
Lords in his own right, apparently as a kind 
of protest against his father’s unconscion- 
able longevity, at least a dozen years before 
his own end came. It was not to be supposed 
that he desired a peerage for any other 
reason, since he had never chosen to seek a 
seat in the House of Commons, and indeed, 
save upon one occasion connected with 
ground game, made no use whatever of hi® 
legislative powers after they had been given 
to him. He cared nothing for politics, and 
read scarcely more in newspapers than in 
books. Up to middle life, he had displayed 
a certain tendency toward interest in fat 
stock and a limited number of allied agricul- 
tural topics, but the decline in farming 
values had turned him from this. In his 
earlier years, too, he had enjoyed being 
identified with the sporting set of his class 
in London, and about the racing circuit, but 
this association he also dropped out of as he 
grew older, partly because late nights bored 
him, partly because he could no longer afford 
to jeopardize any portion of his income. He 
77 


GLORIA MUNDI 


came at last to think of his mastership of 
hounds as his principal tie to existence on 
land. He liked it all, from the sailing sweep 
over the highest barrier in an exceptionally 
rough country, to the smell of the kennels 
of an early morning across the frozen yards. 
This life with the horses and dogs, and with 
the people who belonged to the horses and 
dogs, offered fewer temptations to the evil 
temper in his blood than any other, and 
with growing years his dislike for the wear 
and tear of getting angry had become a con- 
trolling instinct. He continued to use bad 
language with an appropriate show of fer- 
vency, when occasion required, but he had 
got out of the way of scalding himself with 
rage inside. He even achieved a grim sort 
of jocularity toward the close. In the last 
year of his life a tenant-farmer, speaking to 
a toast, affirmed of him that “a truer sports- 
man, nor yet a more humorous and affable 
nobleman, has never taken the chair at a 
puppy- walk luncheon within my recollec- 
tion, ” and this tribute to his geniality both 
pleased and impressed the earl. He was then 
in his sixty-second year, and he might have 
lived into a mellowed, and even jovial old 
age, under the influence of this praise, had 
there been no unwritten law ending the 
hunting season in the early spring, 

78 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The earl cared very little for otters and 
rats, and almost nothing- at all for salmon, 
so that when April came he usually went to 
his yacht, and practically lived aboard it 
until November. Sometimes he made long 
cruises in this substantial and comfortable 
vessel, which he delighted in navigating 
himself. He was lying in at Bremerhaven, for 
example, in May, when one of a sheaf of 
telegrams scattered along the line of North 
Sea ports in search of him, brought the news 
that his youngest son Joseph, who had drifted 
into Mashonaland after the collapse of the 
Jameson adventure, had been killed in the 
native rebellion. Upon consideration, the 
earl could not see that a post-haste return to 
England would serve any useful end. He 
sailed westward, however, after some tele- 
graphic communication with England, and 
made his leisurely way down the Channel 
and round Cornwall to Milford Haven, 
where his wont was to winter his yacht, and 
where most of his crew were at home. The 
fact that he and the vessel were well known 
in this port rendered it possible to follow in 
detail subsequent events. 

It was on the ioth of June that Lord Por- 
lock came to anchor in Milford, and went 
ashore, taking the afternoon train for 
Shrewsbury. He returned on the 14th, 
79 


GLORIA MUNDI 


accompanied by his eldest son and heir, Lord 
Cressage. This latter personage was known 
only from hearsay at Milford, and local 
observation of him was therefore stimulated 
by a virgin curiosity. It was noted that Vis- 
count Cressage — a stalwart and rubicund 
young man of more than his father’s height, 
but somewhat less swarthy of aspect — was 
laboring under very marked depression. 
He hung about the hotel, during the delay 
incident upon cleaning up the yacht, taking 
on new stores and altering some of the sail- 
ing gear, in a plainly moping mood, saying 
little to his father and never a word to any 
one else. A number of witnesses were able 
to make it clear that at first he did not intend 
to sail forth, but was merely bearing his 
father company while the latter remained in 
harbor. 

The fact of their recent bereavement 
accounted in a general way for their 
reticence with each other, but it was impos- 
sible not to see that the younger man had 
something besides the death of a brother on 
his mind. When, on the second day of 
their waiting, the tide began to fill in which 
on its turn was to bear out the yacht, his 
nervous preoccupation grew painfully man- 
ifest. He walked across many times to the 
headland ; he fidgeted in and out of the bar, 
So 


GLORIA MUNDI 


taking drinks for which he obviously had no 
relish, and looking over and over again in the 
railway time-tables for information which he 
seemed incapable of fixing in his memory. 
At last, when everything was ready, and the 
earl stood with his hand out to say good-bye 
to his son, the latter had suddenly, and upon 
the evident impulse of the moment, declared 
with some excitement that he also would go. 
People remembered that he had said, as if 
in defensive explanation of his hasty resolve : 
“Perhaps that will teach her a lesson!” His 
father had only remarked “Rot!” — and with 
that the yacht sailed off, a heaving white 
patch against the blackening west. 

But what followed was too grossly un- 
reasoning to afford a lesson to anybody. 
The morning newspapers of the 18th con- 
tained in one column confirmation of the 
earlier report that the Hon. Anselm Torr, 
second son of the earl of Porlock, had been 
a passenger on the ill-fated “Drummond 
Castle,” and had gone down with the rest 
in the night off Ushant; and in another 
column a telegram from Porthstinian, 
announcing the total loss of a large yacht, 
on the rocks known as the Bishop and Clerks, 
with all on board. The evening papers fol- 
lowed with the rumor that the lost yacht 
was the “Minstrel,” with both Lord Porlock 
81 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and his son, Lord Cressage, on board; but 
it was not until the next afternoon that the 
public possessed all the facts in this extra- 
ordinary affair. Then it happened that the 
edge was rather taken off the horror of the 
tragic coincidence, by the announcement 
that these sudden deaths brought forward as 
next heir to the dukedom Captain Edward 
Torr, late of the — th Hussars, who was 
better known, perhaps, as the husband of 
Miss Cora Bayard. The thought of Cora as 
a prospective duchess made such a direct 
appeal to the gayer side of the popular mind, 
that the gruesome terrors surrounding her 
advancement were lost to sight. When, a 
few days later, it was stated that the vener- 
able Duke of Glastonbury had suffered a 
stroke of paralysis, and lay at Caermere in a 
critical state, the news only made more 
vivid the picture of the music-hall dancer 
turned into Her Grace which the public had 
in its mind’s eye. Her radiant portrait in 
the photographic weeklies and budgets was 
what remained uppermost in the general 
memory. 

For a time, however, in that little fraction 
of the public which is called Society, the 
figure of another woman concentrated inter- 
est upon itself, in connection with the Torr 
tragedy. The fact that a music-hall person 
82 


GLORIA MUNDI 

was to wear a great title had no permanent 
hold upon the imagination of this class. 
They would probably see rather less of her 
then than now — and the thing had no longer 
the charm of the unusual. But they had 
known Lady Cressage. They had admired 
her, followed after her, done all sorts of nice 
things for her, in that season of her wonder- 
ful triumph as the most beautiful girl, and 
the most envied bride, in London. After 
her marriage she had been very little in 
evidence, it was true; one hardly knew of 
any other reigning beauty who had let the 
sceptre slip through her fingers so promptly 
and completely. What was the secret of it 
all? It could not be said that she had lost 
her good looks, or that she was lacking in 
cleverness. There was no tangible scandal 
against her; to the contrary, she seemed 
rather surprisingly indifferent to men’s com- 
pany. Of course, it was understood that 
her marriage was unhappy, but that was 
scarcely a reason for allowing herself to be 
so wholly snuffed out of social importance. 
Everybody knew what the Torrs were like as 
husbands, and everybody would have been 
glad to be good to her. But in some unac- 
countable way, without quite producing the 
effect of rebuffing kindness, she had con- 
trived to lapse from the place prepared for 
83 


GLORIA MUNDI 


her. And now those last words from the 
lips of poor young Cressage — “Perhaps that 
will teach her a lesson!” — sifted their way 
from the coroner’s inquest in a Welsh vil- 
lage up to London, and set people thinking 
once more. Who could tell? It might be 
that the fault was not all on one side. 
According to the accounts of Milford, he was 
in a state of visible excitement and mental 
distress. The very fact of his going off 
alone in a yacht with his father, of whom he 
notoriously saw as little as possible on dry 
land, showed that he must have been greatly 
upset. And his words could mean nothing 
save that it was a quarrel with his wife which 
had sent him off to what proved to be his 
death. What was this quarrel about? And 
was it the woman, after all, who was to 
blame? Echoes of these questions, and of 
their speculative and varied answers, kept 
themselves alive here and there in London 
till Parliament rose in August. They were 
lost then in the general flutter toward the 
moors. 

Lady Cressage, meantime, had not quitted 
Caermere or disclosed any design of doing 
so, and it is there we return to her, where 
she sat at her ease under the palms in the 
glass-house, with a book open before her. 

The spattering reports of a number of 
84 


GLORIA MUNDI 


guns, not very far away, caused her presently 
to lift her head, but after an instant, with a 
fleeting frown, she went back to her book. 
The racket continued, and finally she closed 
the volume, listened with a vexed face for a 
minute or two and then sprang to her feet. 

“Positively this is too bad!” she declared 
aloud, to herself. 

Unexpectedly, as she turned, she found 
confronting her another young woman, also 
clad in black, even to the point of long 
gloves, and a broad hat heavy with funereal 
plumes. In her hand she held some unopened 
letters, and on her round, smooth, pretty 
countenance there was a doubtful look. 

“Good-mornin’, dear,” said this new- 
comer. Her voice, not unmusical in tone, 
carried the suggestion of being produced 
with sedulous regard to a system. “There 
were no letters for you. ” 

There was a momentary pause, and then 
Lady Cressage, as if upon deliberation, 
answered, “Good-morning — Cora.” She 
turned away listlessly as she spoke. 

“Ah, so it is one of my ‘Cora’ days, after 
all,” said the other, with a long breath of 
ostentatious reassurance. “I never know in 
the least where to have you, my dear, you 
know — and particularly this momin’ ; I made 
sure you’d blame me for the guns.” 

85 


GLORIA MUNDI 


‘ ‘ Blame ’ ’ — commented Lady Cressage, 
musingly — “I no longer blame anybody for 
anything. I’ve long since done with my 
fancy for playing at being God, and dis- 
tributing judgments about among people.” 

“Oh, you’re quite right about this shoo tin’ 
the home covers, ’ ’ protested the other. ‘ ‘ I 
gave Eddy a fair bit of m} T mind about it — 
but you know what he is, when once he’s 
headed in a given direction. You might as 
well talk soft to the east wind. And, for 
that matter, I was dead against his bringin’ 
these men down here at all — though it may 
surprise you to hear it. ’ ’ 

Lady Cressage, still looking away, shook 
her head very slightly. “No — I don’t find 
myself particularly surprised,” she said, 
with an effect of languor. “Really, I can’t 
be said to have given the matter a thought, 
one way or the other. It is neither my 
business nor my wish to form opinions about 
your husband’s friends. We were speaking 
of something else, were we not?” 

“Why, yes,” responded Mrs. Edward; “I 
mentioned that sometimes I’m ‘Cora,’ and 
sometimes it’s very much the other way 
about. I merely mentioned it — don’t think I 
mean to complain— -only I began calling you 
Edith from the start — from the first day I 
came here, after the — after the^ — •” 


86 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“I know you did. It was very kind of 
you, ’ ’ murmured Edith, but with no affecta- 
tion of gratitude in her voice. Then, slowly, 
she turned her eyes toward her companion, 
and added in a more considerate tone : ‘ ‘ But 
then you are by nature a much kindlier 
person than I am.” 

“Oh, yes, you say that,” put in the other, 
“but it isn’t true, you know. It’s only that 
I’ve seen more of the world, and am so much 
older than you are. That’s what tells, my 
dear — it’s years that smooths the temper 
down, and rubs off one’s sharp corners — of 
course, if one has some sense to start with. 
I assure you, Edith, that when I was your 
age I was a perfect tiger-cat. ’ ’ 

Lady Cressage smiled in a wan fashion, as 
if in despite of her mood. “You always 
make such a point of your seniority,” she 
said, not unamiably, “but when I look at you, 
I can never believe you’re of any age at all. 
I seem a thousand years old beside you. ’ ’ 
Mrs. Edward showed some dazzling teeth 
in her pleased appreciation of the compli- 
ment. Her smile was as characteristic as 
her voice, in its studiously regular and 
equable distribution. The even parting of 
her bright lips, with their symmetrical inner 
lines of white, was supported to a nicety of 
proportional value by eyelashes and eyes. 
87 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“It’s what I’ve been saying,” she com- 
mented, with frank enjoyment. “It’s good 
temper that does the trick.” 

To tell the truth, Mrs. Edward’s was a 
face which bore no visible relation to years. 
It was of rounded oval in contour, with 
beautifully chiseled small features, a fault- 
less skin which was neither fair nor dark 
and fine large eyes that seemed sometimes 
blue, and as often something else. In these 
eyes ^there lay always, within touch of the 
surface, a latent smile, ready to beam, to 
sparkle, to dance, to languish in mellow 
softness or glitter in cool abstract recognition 
of pleasantries afloat, all at the instant bid- 
ding of the lips below. These lips, delicately 
arched and of vivid warmth of color, were 
as restricted in their movements as is the 
mercury in a thermometer. They did not 
curl sidewise upon occasion; they never 
pouted, or pulled themselves inward together 
under the stress of sudden emotion. They 
did nothing but separate, in perfectly bal- 
anced measure, sometimes by only a hair’s 
breadth, again in the freest fashion, but 
always in painstaking harmony with the 
spirit of the glance above. Students of this 
smile, or rather of this range of graded 
smiles, ordinarily reached the conclusion 
that it was the lips which gave the signal to 
88 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the eyes. Certain it is that they worked 
together in trained accord, and that the rest 
of the face did nothing at all. The white 
forehead furrowed itself with no lines of 
puzzled thought ; there was not the shadow 
of a wrinkle at the corners of the little 
mouth, or about the shapely brown lashes — 
and it seemed incredible that time should 
ever bring one. 

Beside this serene and lovely mask — in the 
placidity of which one found the pledge of 
an easy temper along with the promise of 
unfailing youth — the face of Lady Cressage 
was still beautiful, but in a restless and 
strenuous way. If she did produce the effect 
of being the older of the two, it was because 
Mrs. Edward’s countenance had nothing to 
do with any such standard of comparison. 

“When you come to think of it,” the 
latter went on now, “you do seem older than 
I do, dear — I mean you seem so to me. Of 
course I know there’s a good six years’ 
difference between us — and as far as appear- 
ance goes, I needn’t say that you’d be the 
belle of the ball in London as easily as you 
were four years ago — but all the same you 
have the knack of making me feel as if I 
were the youngster, and you the grown-up. 
I’ve a sister — five years younger than me — 
and she does the same thing. When she 
89 


GLORIA MUNDI 


looks at me— just quietly turns her eyes full 
on me, you know — it seems as if I ought to 
have a pinafore on, and she have spectacles 
and a cap. Oh, she used to give me the 
jumps, that girl did. We haven’t seen much 
of each other, these last few years; we 
didn’t hit it off particularly well — but — why, 
hello ! this is odd, if you like ! ’ ’ 

“What is it?” asked the other, perfunc- 
torily. 

Mrs. Edward had been, shuffling the 
envelopes in her hand the while she spoke, 
and idly noting their superscriptions. She 
held up one of them now, in explanation of 
her remark. 

“Well, talk of the devil, you know — I was 
speaking of my sister Frank, and here’s a 
letter from her. She hasn’t written a line 
to mein — how long is it? — why, it must be — 
well, certainly not since I was married. 
Funny, isn’t it? I wonder if it’s anything 
about the pater. ’ ’ 

She continued to regard the sealed missive 
absent-mindedly, as if the resource of open- 
ing it had not yet suggested itself to her. In 
the meantime, something else occurred to 
her, and she turned to face Lady Cressage, 
who had seated herself again. 

“I meant what I said about these men 
Eddy’s brought down,’’ she declared. “I 


90 


GLORIA MUNDI 


didn’t want them to be asked, and I don’t 
like their being here, any more than you do. 
Yes, I want to have you understand,” she 
persisted, as the other offered a gesture of 
deprecation, “I hope I’m the last person in 
the world to round on old pals, but really, as 
I told Eddy, a man in his position must draw 
the line somewhere. I don’t mind giving a 
leg-up to old Pirie — in a quiet way, of 
course — for he’s not half a bad sort by 
himself; but as for the rest, what are they? 
I don’t care for their families or their com- 
missions — I’ve seen too much of the world 
to be taken in by kid of that sort — I say 
they’re bounders. I never was what you 
might call keen about them as the right 
friends for Eddy, even before — I mean in 
the old days, when it didn’t matter so much 
what company he kept. But now, with 
everything so altered, he ought to see that 
they’re not in his class at all. And that’s 
just what I can’t get him to do in the least. ” 

‘‘Men have their own views in these 
matters. They are often rather difficult to 
understand,” commented Edith, senten- 
tiously. 

“I should think so!” began Mrs. Edward. 
‘‘Why, if I were a man, and in Eddy’s 
place — ” 

Her words had ended aimlessly, as her 


91 


GLORIA MUNDI 


eyes followed the lines of the letter she had 
at last opened and begun to read. She 
finished the brief task, and then, going back 
to the top of the single page, went over it 
again more attentively. There was some- 
thing indefinably impressive about the 
silence in which she did this, and Lady 
Cressage presently raised an inquiring 
glance. Mrs. Edward’s face exhibited no 
marked change of expression, but it had 
turned deathly pale. The unabated redness 
of the lips gave this pallor a ghastliness 
which frightened Edith, and brought her to 
her feet. 

“What in the name — ’’ she began, but the 
other held up a black-gloved hand. 

“Is this something you know about? — 
something you’ve been putting up?” Cora 
demanded, in a harsh, ungoverned voice, 
moving forward as she spoke. ‘ ‘ Look at this. 
Here’s what my sister writes. ” She did not 
offer to show the letter, but huskily read forth 
its contents: 

“ ‘London, September 30. 

“ ‘My dear Cora: I don’t know whether 
you will thank me or not, but I feel that 
some one ought to warn you, if only that you 
may pull yourself together to meet what is 
coming. Your house is built of cards, and 
it is only a question of days, perhaps of 
92 


GLORIA MUNDI 


hours, when it will be pushed over. Your 
husband is not the heir, after all. I am 
truly in great grief at the thought of what 
this will mean to you, and I can only hope 
that you will believe me when I sign myself, 

“ ‘Your sincerely affectionate sister, 

“ ‘Frances.’ ” 

The two women exchanged a tense look 
in which sheer astonishment encountered 
terror, and mingled with it. 

“No, I know nothing of this,” faltered 
Edith, more in response to the other’s wild 
eyes than to the half-forgotten inquiries that 
had prefaced the reading of the letter. 

“No trick of a child, eh? What do they 
call it, posthumous?’’ Cora panted, still with 
the rough voice which had shaken off the 
yoke of tuition. 

Edith lifted her head. “That is absurd,” 
she answered, curtly. 

As they confronted each other thus, a 
moving shadow outside caught their notice. 
Instinctively turning their eyes, they beheld 
through the glass a stranger, a slender young 
man with a soft hat of foreign fashion, strid- 
ing across the lawn away from the house. 
He held his head high in the air, and they 
could see that the hands carried stiffly out- 
stretched at his sides were clenched. 


93 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“He struts across the turf as if he owned 
it,” said Edith, clutching vaguely at the 
meaningless relief which this interruption 
seemed to offer. 

But Mrs. Edward had sunk into the chair, 
and buried her face in her black-gloved 
hands. 


CHAPTER V 


Christian began his walk with swift, ener- 
getic steps, and a guiding eye fixed reso- 
lutely on a distinguishing mark in the distant 
line of tree-tops beyond, as if both speed 
and directness of course were of utmost 
urgency to his purpose. While his body 
moved forward thus automatically, however, 
his mind remained engrossed with what had 
been said and done in the room he was leav- 
ing behind. 

His brain reproduced over and over again 
the appearance of the two young brothers, 
their glances at each other, their sneering 
scowls at him. The picture of Augustine 
whispering in Edward’s ear, and of Edward 
shaking his sulky head, stuck in his memory 
as a living thing. He had continued to see 
it after he had turned his back on them and 
gone to the window. The infamous words 
which had been spoken about his father were 
a part of this picture, and their inflection still 
rang in his ears just as the young men still 
stood before his eyes, compact of hostility to 
him and his blood. 


95 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The noise of guns in the wood he ap- 
proached was for a time subordinated in his 
mind to those bitter echoes of Edward’s 
speech. When at last these reports of firing 
attracted his attention, he had passed out of 
sight of Caermere, and found himself on a 
vaguely defined path at the end of a broad 
heath, much overgrown with heather and 
broom and low, straggling, inhospitable- 
looking shrubs novel to his eye. Curious 
movements among this shaggy verdure 
caught his wandering notice, and he stopped 
to observe them more closely. A great 
many rabbits — or would they be hares? — 
were making their frightened escape from the 
wood in front of him, and darting about for 
cover in this undergrowth. He became con- 
scious now of an extraordinary tumult in the 
wood itself — a confused roar of men’s voices 
raised in apparently meaningless cries, 
accompanied by an unintelligible pounding 
of sticks on timber and crackling brush. 
This racket almost drowned the noise of the 
remote firing; its effect of consternation 
upon the small inhabitants of the thicket 
was only less than the bewilderment that it 
caused in Christian’s mind. Forgetting 
altogether his own concerns, he pushed 
cautiously forward to spy out the cause of 
the commotion. 


96 


GLORIA MUNDI 

Somewhat later, he emerged from the 
wood again, having obtained a tolerable 
notion of what was going on. He had 
caught a view of one line of beaters making 
their way through a copse, diagonally away 
from him — rough men clad for the most part 
in white jackets, who shouted and thrashed 
about them with staves as they went — and 
it was easy enough to connect their work, 
and the consequent rise and whirring rush 
of birds before it, with the excited fusillade 
of guns farther on. Christian did not get 
a sight of the sportsmen themselves. Albeit 
with some doubts as to the dignity of the 
proceeding, he made a detour of the piece of 
woodland, with the idea of coming out upon 
the shooting party, but when he arrived at 
the barrier it was to find on the spot only a 
couple of men in greenish corduroys, whom 
he took to be underkeepers. They were at 
work before a large heap of pheasants, tying 
the birds in pairs by the necks, and hanging 
them over a long stick, stretched between 
two trees, which already bent under its 
burden. They glanced up from their em- 
ployment at Christian, and when he stooped 
to pick up one of the cartridge cases with 
which the ground at his feet was strewn, 
they exchanged some muttered comment at 
which both laughed aloud. He instinctively 
97 


GLORIA MUNDI 


threw the little tube down, and looked away 
from the men. The thought occurred to him 
that if they only knew who he was their con- 
fusion would be pathetic, but as it was, they 
had the monopoly of self-possession, and it 
was he who shyly withdrew. 

The whole diversion, however, had cleared 
and sweetened his mood. He retraced his 
steps through the wood and then struck off 
in a new direction across the heath, at a 
more leisurely pace than he had come, his 
mind dwelling pleasurably upon the various 
picturesque phases of what he had witnessed. 
The stray glimpses of la chasse which had 
been afforded him in the South had had noth- 
ing in common with this. The unkempt 
freedom of the growths about him appealed 
to his senses as cultivated parks and ordered 
forests had never done. It was all so strong 
and simple and natural — and the memory of 
the beaters smashing along in the thicket, 
bawling and laying about them with their 
clubs, gave it a primitive note which greatly 
pleased his fancy. 

The heath was even finer, in his eyes, than 
the wood. The air stirring across it, for one 
thing, had a quality which he seemed never 
to have known before — and the wild, almost 
savage, aspect of its squat gra)7- and russet 
herbage, the sense of a splendidly unashamed 
98 


GLORIA MUNDI 


idleness and unproductiveness suggested by 
its stretches of waste land, charmed his 
imagination. He said to himself, as he 
sauntered here, that he would gallop every 
day across this wonderful plain, with a com- 
pany of big dogs at his horse’s heels. The 
thought of the motion in the saddle inspired 
him to walk faster. He straightened him- 
self, put his hands to his coat at the breast 
as he had seen young Englishmen do on their 
pedestrian tours, and strode briskly forward, 
humming to himself as he moved. The 
hateful episode of the morning had not so 
much faded from his thoughts, as shaken 
itself into a new kaleidoscopic formation. 
Contact with these noble realities out of 
doors had had the effect, as it were, of 
immeasurably increasing his stature. When 
he thought of those paltry cousins of his, it 
was as if he looked down upon their insig- 
nificance from a height. 

He came at last face [to face with a high 
stone wall, the pretensions and obvious anti- 
quity of which told him at once that he had 
returned to the vicinity of the castle. Sure 
enough, there were discernible at a con- 
siderable distance down to the right some of 
the turrets and roofs of Caermere, and he 
turned his course in that direction. It 
seemed to him a long way that he walked by 


99 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the side of this great wall, marveling as he 
did so at its size and at the ambitions views 
of the persons who built it. The reflection 
that they were ancestors of his own came to 
his mind, and expanded therein. He also 
would build like a great nobleman in his 
time! What was there so grand as build- 
ing? — he mused as he looked about him — 
unless it might be the heath and the brown- 
ish-purple hills beyond, and these also one 
intuitively thought of as having been built. 

Presently a small doorway appeared in the 
massive wall, and Christian, finding it 
unlocked, passed through it into a vast 
garden. The inner and sunny side of the 
wall, as far as he could see in either direc- 
tion, was veined with the regularly espaliered 
branches of dwarf trees flattened against it, 
from which still depended here and there 
belated specimens of choice fruit. On the 
other side of the path following close this 
wall, down which he proceeded, were endless 
rows of small trees and staked clumps of 
canes, all now bereft of their season’s prod- 
uce. The spectacle did not fit with what 
had been mentioned to him of the poverty 
of Caermere. Farther on, a tall hedge 
stretching at right angles from the wall 
separated this orchard from what he saw 
now, by glimpses through an open arch, to 


ioo 


GLORIA MUNDI 


be a flower garden. He quickened bis pace 
at the sight, for flowers were very near his 
heart. 

At first there was not much to move his 
admiration. The sunlit profusion of his boy- 
hood’s home had given him standards of size 
and glowing color which were barely ap- 
proached, and nowhere equaled, here. 
Suddenly he came upon something, how- 
ever, before which he perforce stopped. It 
was the beginning of a long row of dahlias, 
rounded flowers on the one side of him, 
pointed and twisted cactus varieties on the 
other, and he had imagined nothing like this 
before in his life. Apparently no two of the 
tall plants, held upright to the height of his 
breast by thick stakes, were alike, and he 
knew not upon which to expend the greater 
delight, the beauty of their individual blos- 
soms or the perfection of skill exhibited in 
the color-arrangement of the line. 

He moved slowly along, examining the 
more notable flowers in detail with such 
ardor that a young lady in a black gown, but 
with a broad hat of light straw on her pale 
hair, advanced up the path, paused, and 
stood quite near him for some moments 
before he perceived her presence. Then 
with a little start, he took off his hat, and 
held it in his hands while he made a stiff bow. 


IOI 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“You are fond of flowers?” Lady Cressage 
said, more as a remark than an inquiry. 
She observed him meanwhile with politely 
calm interest. 

“These dahlias are extraordinary!” he 
exclaimed, very earnestly. “I have never 
seen such flowers, and such variety. It sur- 
prises me a great deal. It is a speciality in 
England, n’est ce pas?” 

‘ ‘ I think I have heard that we have carried 
the d&hlia further than other countries have 
done, ’ ’ responded the lady, courteously 
giving the name the broad-voweled sound 
he had used. She added with a pleasant 
softening of eyes and lips: “But you ought 
not to begrudge us one little triumph like 
this — you who come from the very paradise 
of flowers.” 

The implication in her words caused him 
to straighten himself, and to regard her with 
a surprised new scrutiny. He saw now that 
she was very beautiful, and he strove to 
recall the few casual remarks Lord Julius 
had dropped concerning the two ladies at 
the castle, as a clue to her identity. One 
had been an actress, he remembered — and 
this lady’s graceful equanimity had, per- 
haps, something histrionic in it. But if she 
happened not to be the actress, then it would 
no doubt anger her very much to be taken 


102 


GLORIA MUNDI 


for one. He knew so little of women — and 
then his own part in the small drama occurred 
to him. 

“It is evident that you understand who I 
am,” he said, with another bow. The 
further thought that in either case she was 
related to him, was a part of the family of 
which he would soon be the head, came to 
give him fresh confidence. “It is not only 
dahlias that are carried to unrivaled heights 
of beauty in England, ’ ’ he added, and 
bowed once more. 

She smiled outright at this. “That is 
somewhat too — what shall I say? — conti- 
nental for these latitudes,” she remarked. 
“Men don’t say such glowing things in Eng- 
land. We haven’t sun enough, you know, 
properly to ripen rose-hips — or compliments. 
I should like to introduce myself, if I may — 
I am Edith Cressage — and Lord Julius has 
told me the wonderful story about you. ” 

She held out her hand as she spoke, with 
a deliberate gesture, which afforded Chris- 
tian time to note its exquisite modeling, if he 
had had the eyes for it. But he took the 
hand in his own rather cursorily, and began 
speaking with abruptness before he had 
finished his bow and relinquished it. 

“It is much too wonderful,” he said, 
hastily. “It frightens me. I cannot get 
103 


GLORIA. MUNDI 


used to it. I have the feeling that I should 
go away somewhere, and live by myself, till 
it became all familiar to me. But then I see 
it would be just as painful, wherever I 
went.” 

‘‘Oh, let us hope it would be least painful 
here, of all places, ’ ’ urged the lady, in gentle 
deprecation of his tone. ‘‘Caermere is not 
gay, but it can be soothing and restful — to 
those who stand in need of solace. It has 
come to be my second home — I never 
thought one could grow so deeply attached 
to a place. It has been to me like a tender 
old nurse and confidante — in times when — 
when its shelter and consolation were very 
welcome” — she faltered for an instant, with 
averted face, then raised her moist eyes to 
his, and let them sparkle — ‘‘and oh, you will 
grow to love Caermere with all your heart. ’ ’ 

Christian felt himself much moved. He 
had put on his hat, and stepped now to her 
side. 

‘‘I have seen nothing of it at all,” he said. 
‘‘I am going to ask that you shall show it to 
me — you who love it so much. But if I shall 
remain here now, that I cannot in the least 
tell. Nothing is arranged, so far as I know. 
I am quite in Lord Julius’ hands — thus far.” 

They had tacitly begun to move down 
the path together, loitering to look at plants 
104 


GLORIA MUNDI 


on either side which particularly invited 
notice. 

“Lord Julius is a remarkable man,” she 
said. “If one is fortunate enough to enlist 
his friendship, there is no end to what he can 
do for him. You can hardly imagine what a 
difference it makes for you in everything — the 
fact that he is warmly disposed towards you. ’ ’ 
“Yes, that I have been told,” said Chris- 
tian, “and I see it for myself, too. I do not 
feel that I know him very well, as yet. It 
was only yesterday morning that I met him 
for the first time at an hotel in Brighton. We 
breakfasted together, we looked through 
papers together and then we began a long 
railway journey together, which only ended 
a few hours ago. We have talked a great 
deal in this time, but, as I have said, the 
man himself is not very clear to me yet. 
But no one could have been kinder — and I 
think he likes me.” 

“Oh, of course he does,” affirmed Lady 
Cressage, as if anything else would have 
been incredible. “And — talking with him 
so much, so continuously, you no doubt 
understand the entire situation. I am glad 
that he at least left it to me to show you 
over Caermere ; there is apparently nothing 
else in which I can be of use. ’ ’ 

Christian, though he smiled in kindly 
105 


GLORIA MUNDI 


recognition of her attitude, offered no verbal 
comment, and after a wandering digression 
about dahlias, she returned to the subject. 

“If there is anything I can tell you — about 
the family, the position of affairs in general, 
and so on — you should not stand on 
ceremony with me. Has he, for example, 
explained about money affairs?” 

The young man looked keenly at her for 
an instant, as if the question took him by 
surprise. Then he answered frankly enough : 
“Nothing definite. I only gather that it 
will be made easier for me than it would 
have been for — for other members of the 
family, if they — ha'd been in my place. But 
perhaps that is not what I should say to 
you. * ’ 

Lady Cressage smiled on him reassur- 
ingly. 

“Oh, don’t think of me in that light,” she 
pleaded. “I stand quite outside the — what 
shall I say? — the interested family circle. I 
have no ax of any description to grind. 
You, of course, have been told my position 
in the castle — that is, so far as it can be told 
by others. It is a simple enough story— I 
was to have been everything, and then the 
wind happens to change off the Welsh coast 
and lo ! I am nothing — nothing ! It is not 

even certain that I am not a beggar — living 
106 


GLORIA MUNDI 


here on alms. Legally, everything is in 
such confusion that no one knows how he 
stands. But so far as I am concerned, it 
doesn’t matter. My cup has been filled so 
full — so long: — that a little more or less 
trouble is of no importance. Oh, I assure 
you, I do not desire to be considered in the 
matter at all. ’ ’ 

She made this last declaration with great 
earnestness, in immediate response to the 
sympathetic look and gesture with which 
Christian had interrupted her narrative. 

His gentle eyes regarded her troubled 
beauty with compassionate softness. “I 
venture to think that you will be considered 
a good deal, none the less,” he remarked, 
in a grave yet eager tone. The sense of 
elation at being able to play the part of 
Providence to such a lady spread through 
his mind and possessed his being. The lofty 
possibilities of the powers devolving upon 
him had never been so apparent before. He 
instinctively put out his arm toward her, in 
such overt fashion that she could but take it. 
She did not lean upon it, but imparted to 
the contact instead a kind of ceremonial 
reserve which directly ministered to the 
patrician side of his mood. 

They walked, if possible, still more slowly 
now, pausing before almost every stake; 


107 


GLORIA MUNDI 


their talk was of the flowers, with occasional 
lapses into the personal. 

“What you said about Lord Julius,” she 
remarked, in one of these interludes, “is 
quite true. He has it in his power to say 
whether the duke shall be a rich man or a 
pauper, and until yesterday he was all for 
the pauper. If poor Porlock and his sons 
had lived, they knew very well that Lord 
Julius was no friend of theirs, and would 
starve the title whichever of them had it. 
And so with these others — Edward and 
Augustine — only with them, it isn’t merely 
dislike but loathing that Lord Julius has for 
them.” 

“I met those young gentlemen this morn- 
ing, ’ ’ said Christian stiffly. ‘ ‘ It seemed to 
me that Lord Julius went quite out of his 
way to be kind with them. I should never 
have gathered that he hated them. ’ ’ 

“Oh, not personally,” she explained. “I 
don’t think he dislikes anybody personally. 
But in what you may call their representa- 
tive capacity he is furious with people if they 
don’t measure up to his idea of what they 
should be. I never heard of any other 
family that had such a man in it. I used to 
admire him very much — when I was newly 
married — I thought his ideals for the family 
were so noble and fine — but I don’t know — ” 
108 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Do you have suspicions of Julius, then?” 
asked Christian, hurriedly. 

“Oh, no, no!” she protested. “Nothing 
is farther from my thoughts. Only I have 
seen it all, here. I have lived in the very 
heart of it — and much as I sympathize with 
his feelings, I can’t help feeling that he is 
unjust — not willfully, but still unjust. He 
and his son are men of great intelligence 
and refined tastes ; they would do honor to 
any position. But is it quite fair of them to 
be so hard on cousins of theirs who were not 
given great intelligence, and who had no 
capacity whatever for refinement? That is 
what I mean. You saw those young men 
this morning. They are not up to much, 
certainly ; their uncle Porlock and his sons 
averaged, perhaps, even a shade lower — 
you see I am speaking quite frankly — but 
when it is all said and done, they were not 
so remarkably worse than other men of 
their class. If any of the six had succeeded 
to the title, he would not have been such a 
startling anomaly in the peerage. I doubt 
if he would have attracted attention, one 
way or the other. But it became a fixed idea 
with Lord Julius years ago to get control 
of the estates, and to use this control to bully 
the elder line into the paths of sweetness 
and light. It didn’t succeed in the least — 
109 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and I think he grew a little spiteful. That 
is all. And besides — what does it matter? 
It is all ancient history now. ’ ’ 

Christian was looking straight before him, 
with a meditative gaze. They walked for 
some moments in silence before he spoke. 
“And how did he know that he would like 
me?” he demanded, musingly. “How 
should he be confident that I was better than 
the others? Perhaps — do you know? — was 
he very fond of my father?” 

“I have no idea,” she responded. It was 
impossible not to note the brevity of her 
tone. 

“No one speaks willingly of my father,” 
he broke forth with impulsive bitterness. 
“Even Lord Julius would tell me nothing 
of him. And the young lady on the boat — 
she too — ” 

He paused, and his companion, who had 
been looking away, glanced again at him. 
“The young lady on the boat,” she said, 
more by way of suggesting to him a safe 
topic than as an inquiry. 

“Oh, I much want to know who she can 
be,” he cried, unconsciously accepting the 
diversion. He described the meeting at 
Rouen, the conversation and, after a fashion 
of his own, the girl herself. “She said,” he 
went on, “that she had personally something 


no 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to do with the story — ‘remotely’ was the 
word she used. I asked Lord Julius, but he 
could not think who she might be. She 
earns her own living — she told me that — 
and she had never been out of England 
before. She is not well educated — in the 
school sense, I mean — her French was 
ridiculous. But she spoke very beautifully 
her own language, and her mind filled me 
with charm, but even more so her good 
heart. We swore friendship for all time — or 
at least I did. ’ ’ 

“Dear me!” said Lady Cressage. Her 
thoughts had not been idle, and they 
brought to her now on the instant a satis- 
factory clue. She pondered it for a little, 
before she decided to speak. “I think I 
know who this remarkable young lady must 
be,” she observed then. “This Captain 
Edward whom you met this morning — he has 
a wife.” 

“Yes, I know,” put in Christian abruptly 
— “the actress-lady; Julius told me of her.” 

“I suppose ‘actress’ would cover the 
thing,” she answered, with an air of amiable 
indifference. “She danced more than she 
acted, I believe, but ‘actress’ is a very gen- 
eral term. Well, your eternal friend is, I 
suspect, her younger sister. I have never 
seen her, but by accident I happen to know 


in 


GLORIA MUNDI 

that she is aware of your coming to Eng- 
land.” 

Christian’s mobile face had lengthened 
somewhat. ‘‘Is she also an — an ‘actress’?” 
he asked, dolefully. 

Lady Cressage looked skyward, with half- 
closed eyes, in an effort of memory. ‘‘I 
really seem to have heard what she did,” 
she mused, hesitatingly. “I know her sis- 
ter has often spoken of her. Is it ‘barmaid’? 
No. ‘Telegraph’? No, it’s her father 
who’s in the General Post Office. Why, 
now, how stupid of me! She can’t be a 
nurse, of course, or there would have been 
her uniform. Oh, now I remember — she’s 
a typewriter. ’ ’ 

It was not clear to her whether Christian 
wholly comprehended the term, now that 
she had found it. She perceived, however, 
that he disliked something in what she had 
said, or in her manner of saying it. The 
remarkable responsiveness of his counte- 
nance to passing emotions and moods within 
him had already impressed her. She 
regarded his profile now with a sidelong 
glance, and reconstructed some of her 
notions about him by the help of what she 
saw. Nothing was said, until suddenly he 
paused, gazing with kindled eye upon the 
prospect opened before him. 


112 


GLORIA MUNDI 


They had come to the end of the garden, 
and stood at the summit of a broad stone- 
kerbed path descending in terraces. Above 
them, the dense foliage of the yews rising at 
either side of the gap in the hedge had been 
trained and cut into an arched canopy. 
From under this green gateway Christian 
looked down upon a Caermere he had not 
imagined to himself before. 

The castle revealed itself for the first 
time, as he beheld it now, in its character 
as a great medieval fortress. On his arrival 
in the morning, emerging from the shad- 
owed driveway into the immediate precinct 
of the house, he had seen only its variously 
modernized parts ; these, as they were 
viewed from this altitude, shrank to their 
proper proportions — an inconsiderable frac- 
tion of the mighty whole. All about, the 
massive shoulders of big hills shelved down- 
ward to form the basin-like hollow in which 
the castle seemed to stand, but their large 
bulk, so far from dwarfing Caermere, pro- 
duced the effect of emphasizing its dimen- 
sions. Its dark-gray walls and towers, with 
their bulging clumps of chimneys and 
turrets, and lusterless facets of many-angled 
roofings, all of somber slate, were visibly the 
product, the very child, of the mountains. 
A sensation of grim, adamantine, implacable 


GLORIA MUNDI 


power took hold of the young man’s brain as 
he gazed. For a long time he did not want 
to talk, and felt vaguely that he was signify- 
ing this by the slight, sustained pressure of 
his arm against hers. At all events, she 
grasped his wish, and preserved silence, 
holding herself a little behind him, so that 
he might look down, without distraction, 
upon his kingdom. 

‘ ‘ These Torrs , 5 ’ he burst forth all at once, 
with a nervous uncertainty in his tones as of 
one out of breath, “these ancestors of mine 
— the family I belong to — did they produce 
great men? You must know their history. 
Julius says we are the most ancient family 
in England. I have not had the time yet to 
learn anything of what we did. Were, there 
heroes and famous soldiers and learned 
scholars among us? To look at that wonder- 
ful castle there at our feet, it seems as if 
none but born chiefs and rulers of mankind 
could ever have come out of it. ’ ’ 

“Captain Edward and his brother Augus- 
tine were both born there,” she permitted 
her own over-quick tongue to comment. 

He let her arm drop from his with a swift 
gesture, and wheeled round to look her in 
the face. The glance in his eyes said so 
much to her that she hastened to anticipate 
his speech. 

114 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Forgive me!” she urged hastily. “It 
was silly thoughtlessness of mine. I do not 
know you at all well as yet, you know, and 
I say the wrong things to you. Do tell me 
you forgive me ! And it is only fair to 
myself to say, too, that I have been in a bad 
school these last few years. Conversation 
as one practices it at Caermere is merely the 
art of making everything pointed and sharp 
enough to pierce thick skins. I should have 
remembered that you were different — it was 
unpardonable of me! But I have really 
angered you ! ’ ’ 

Christian, still looking at her, found him- 
self gently shaking his head in reassurance. 
It was plain enough to him that this beauti- 
ful young woman had suffered much, and 
that at the hands of his own people. What 
wonder that acrid memories of them should 
find their way to her lips? He also' had 
been unhappy. He smiled gravely into her 
face at the softening recollection. 

“We were speaking of different things, I 
think,” he commented, and nodded approval 
at sight of the relieved change which his 
tone brought to her countenance. “I know 
very well there are many disagreeable and 
unpleasant matters close about us — when we 
are down below, there. But now we are up 
above them, and we forget them all, or 
115 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ignore them — and I was asking you about 
the history of the family — its ancient his- 
tory. ’ * 

She put her hand lightfy upon his arm 
again. “Lord Julius is right about it being 
a very, very long history, ’ ’ she said, putting 
into her voice a tacit recognition of his 
magnanimity. “I know it, in a certain way, 
but I can hardly make a good story of it, 
I’m afraid. The family is Keltic, you know. 
That is what is always said about it, as its 
most distinguishing characteristic. It is 
the only large English one which managed to 
survive through the Saxon period, and then 
the Norman period, and keep its name and 
its estates and its territorial power. This 
makes it very interesting to historians and 
archaeologists. There are many stone cir- 
cles and Druidic monuments about here, 
some of which are said to be connected with 
the introduction of Christianity into Britain. 
You will see them another day, and read 
the legends about them. Well, it is said 
that the chief who possessed this land here, 
and who had some kind of a stronghold 
there where the castle is, at that time, was a 
Torr. Of course, there were no surnames 
then, but it would have been his tribal 
appellation, or something of the sort. The 
fact itself, I believe, is generally accepted — 
116 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that the family that was here in St. David’s 
time is here now. It is a tradition that 
there should always be a David in the fam- 
ily ; it used to be the leading name, but now 
Christian is usually the duke’s name, and the 
others are all saints, like Anselm, Edward, 
Augustine and — and so forth.” 

The young man looked down in medita- 
tion upon the gloomy, historic pile. ‘ ‘ It is a 
very grand beginning,” he said, thought- 
fully. 

“Perhaps it was too grand for mere 
mortals to live up to, ’ ’ she ventured, with a 
cautious sidelong eye on him. 

“I see your meaning,” he assented, nod- 
ding. “Yes, no doubt it is natural. It is as 
if a boy were named Napoleon. He would 
be frightened to think what he had done to 
make his name and himself fit together — 
and very likely he would never do anything 
at all.” 

“Yes, that is it,” she answered, and drew 
a long, consolatory breath. 

They had begun to move down the wide 
winding path, and when they paused pres- 
ently at one of the steps to note a new view 
of the buildings, she called his attention to 
something by a little exclamation and a 
pointing finger. 

“Do you see the balcony there, up above 

117 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and to the left of the flat-topped tower— no, 
this side of the highest chimneys — there are 
figures coming out on it from the window. 

“There is some one in a reclining chair, 
n’est ce pas?” he asked, following her 
finger. 

“It is your grandfather,” she said softly. 
“Those are his apartments — the rows of win- 
dows with the white woodwork. When the 
sun gets round to them, they bring him out 
— if he is strong enough. Evidently this 
is one of his good days.” 

Christian, gazing eagerly, made out be- 
yond the attendants and the couch they 
bore, another figure, with a splash of white 
like a shield upon its front. 

“Is it not Julius?” he asked swiftly, press- 
ing her arm. “Oh, then by this time my 
grandfather knows of me — knows that I am 
here! Should you not think so? And no 
doubt, since it is his good day, they will take 
me to see him. Is that not probable?” 

“I haven’t the least idea,” she responded, 
after a momentary pause, “either as to what 
Lord Julius has told him, or as to how much 
he is capable of understanding. Except 
from this distance, I have not seen him 
since he was struck down with paralysis. I 
know nothing of his condition beyond a 
stray, guarded word now and then from the 
118 


GLORIA MUNDI 


doctors. If I were a professional thief and 
he a crown jewel, I could not have been 
more securely shut out from him ! ’ ’ 

The melancholy bitterness of her words, 
and tone appealed to the young man. He 
drew her hand closer to his side by a deli- 
cate pressure of the arm. “I can see that 
you have been very unhappy,” he said, 
compassionately. 

‘‘Oh-h-h!” she murmured, with a shud- 
dering sigh. “Don’t — don’t speak of it, I 
beg of you!” 

“I also have had a sad youth,” he went 
on, unconsciously tightening his arm. “But 
now” — and he lifted his head and smiled — 
“who knows? Who shall say that the bad 
days are not all gone — for both of us?” 

Only the flutter of the hand against his 
arm made answer. They walked on to- 
gether down the broad sunlit path. 















CHAPTER VI 


At the foot of the terraced slope, the 
wide, graveled path down which Lady 
Cressage had led Christian described a foral 
curve to the right, across a lawn which he 
recognized as belonging to his morning’s 
experiences. The angle of the high, domed 
conservatory recalled itself to him. Beyond 
it, on the same side, would be the window 
from which he had quitted the house. 

To the left, a smaller footpath turned 
into still another garden, and he was - glad 
that his companion moved this way. They 
were in a relatively small inclosure, hedged 
upon three sides by closely knit high walls 
of box ; the straggling, untrimmed pro- 
fusion of this tall growth, through which a 
multitude of sweet-briers thrust still farther 
upward their dipping and interlaced green 
rods, gave the place a homely if unkempt 
aspect. On the fourth side rose the blue- 
gray masonry of the castle itself — an ancient 
curtain stretched between two towers. The 
autumn sunlight lay upon this stained old 
wall, and warmed it, and glowed softly 


121 


GLORIA MUNDI 


among the leaves and saffron blossoms of 
the great rose-tree trained upon it. This 
garden preserved the outlines of some 
former quaint arrangement of walks and 
beds, but these were comfortably softened 
everywhere, and in part obscured, by the 
untrammeled freedom of vegetation. Even 
over the moldering red tiles of the paths 
mosses had been suffered to creep un- 
molested. A few late roses were in bloom 
here and there, and at one corner there 
rose a colony of graceful white lilies, the 
scent of which filled the air. It was all 
very restful and charming, and Christian, 
pausing to gaze about him, gave little excla- 
mations of pleasure at what he saw. 

In the center of the garden, surrounded 
by a low seat of weather-worn woodwork, 
was what seemed to be a fountain, culmi- 
nating in a piece of statuary, so blackened and 
battered by time and storm that little could 
be made out of its creator’s intentions. 
Christian, with some murmured inquiry, led 
the way toward this — and then perceived 
that Lord Julius, who had been sitting at 
the other and sunny side of the statue, was 
standing now in the path, confronting the 
new-comers with a friendly smile. 

“This is my particular haunt at Caer- 
mere,” he explained to the young man. 


122 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“In so huge a place, one is lost if he does 
not fasten upon a special corner or nook of 
some sort, and send down roots in it and 
make it his own. This was my mother’s 
garden, and for over fifty years now I have 
bargained with one generation of head gar- 
deners after another to leave it alone — as 
she left it. When Cheltnam came, he was 
so famous a person that I submitted to his 
budding some new varieties on the old wall- 
rose there — but, bless me, even that is thirty 
years ago — before either of you was born. I 
see you young people have lost no time in 
becoming acquainted. ’ ’ 

Edith Cressage looked into the old gentle- 
man’s eyes for a moment before she replied. 
They had exchanged this same glance — on 
her side at once puzzled, suspicious, defiant ; 
on his full of a geniality possibly pointed 
with cynicism — very often during the last 
four years, without affecting by it any pre- 
possession or prejudice in either’s mind. 
“We met by accident in the upper fruit- 
walk, and I introduced myself. It must be 
quite luncheon time. Shall we go in?” 
She added, as upon an afterthought, and 
with another steadfast look into his face, “I 
have promised to show him over the house 
and the castle. ’ ’ 

“Admirable!” said Lord Julius, cordially. 


123 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He looked at his watch. “We will follow 
you in a very few moments, if we may. I 
dare say he is as ready for luncheon as I 
am, but I want to show him my old garden 
first. ’ ’ 

“Oh, let me stop too!” she exclaimed, 
without an instant’s hesitation. “May I 
confess it?-— when you’re not here I call it 
my garden, too. I knew it was your 
mother’s — and I was always going to ask 
you to tell me about her, but the oppor- 
tunity never offered. It is the one really 
perfect spot at Caermere, even to me. And 
I can understand how infinitely these old 
associations add to its charms for you! I 
shall truly not be in the way if I stop?” 

The elder man regarded her with a twink- 
ling eye from under his broad hat-brim as 
he shook his head. ‘ ‘ To the contrary, we are 
both delighted,” he answered, amiably 
enough. He began leading the way at this, 
and the two young people, walking perforce 
very close together on the narrow path, fol- 
lowed at his heels. 

He pointed out to them that the foun- 
tain, which he could not remember being in 
working order even in his boyhood, was 
built over the ancient well of the castle. 
The statue apparently dated from William 
and Mary’s time; at least, it was very like 
124 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the objects they set up at Hampton Court. 
Part of its pedestal was made of three 
Ogham stones, which were said to have 
stood by the well in former times. Flint 
knives and other primitive weapons had been 
found in the garden. Antiquaries were not 
agreed as to the, possibility of the well hav- 
ing been in existence at any very remote 
period, but it was not unlikely that this 
small garden had been the center of interest 
— perhaps the scene of Druidical sacrifices, 
or even of the famous conversion of the 
tribe resident here by St. David — at the 
beginning of things. These speculations as 
to precise localities were interesting, but 
scarcely convincing. The wall at the ' end 
was a more definite affair. It had been 
built after the Third Crusade by Stephen de 
la Tour, as the Normanized name went 
then. 

“Ah, the name has not always been 
spelled the same then?” interrupted Chris- 
tian here. He spoke with an eagerness 
which the abstract interest of the query 
seemed hardly to warrant. 

‘ ‘ Heavens, no!” said Lord J ulius. 4 4 It has 
been Tor with one 4 r’ and with two; it has 
been de la Tour, as I said, and Tour with- 
out the 4 de la,’ and Toure, and I know of at 
least one branch of the people of the name 
125 


GLORIA MUNDI 


of Tower who are undoubtedly of our stock. 
It is quite conceivable that many others of 
them are, too.” 

“Then the forms of names can be altered 
at will?” pursued Christian. ‘‘If a man 
says, ‘ I will spell it so and so, ’ then it is all 
right?” 

‘‘Oh, yes,” explained the other. ‘‘Often 
two spellings exist side by side. Witness 
the Seymours a few years ago. You had 
one brother writing it Seymour and another 
St. Maur. The latter is now the official 
spelling — for the present, at least.” 

‘‘This is extremely interesting to me,” the 
young man cried. ‘‘Sol may keep my name 
as I have always borne it! I may write 
myself ‘Christian Tower’ ! That lifts a load 
from my mind. I had been unhappy to 
think of abandoning the name my father 
liked. He always both spelled and pro- 
nounced it ‘Tower,’ and that is why I shall 
be so glad to do the same.” 

An acute kind of silence rested upon the 
group for an awkward minute. 

‘‘Oh, don’t let us have any more archae- 
ology before luncheon, Lord Julius,” put in 
the lady then. ‘‘Caermere so reeks with 
history that one must take it in small install- 
ments or be overwhelmed altogether. You 
were going to tell us about your mother, 
126 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Lord Julius, and how you remember her, 
here in this dear old garden. And posi- 
tively nothing has been changed since!” 

“I mustn’t go quite so far as that,” said 
the old man, smilingly. He seemed grate- 
ful to her for the digression. “A certain 
systematic renovation has, of course, been 
necessary; I have arranged with the gar- 
deners to manage that. I dare say there are 
scarcely any plants or roots here now which 
were individually in existence in my 
mother’s time; but their children, their 
descendants, are here in their places. 
Except for Cheltnam’s buds on the wall 
there, I don’t think any novelties have been 
introduced. If so, it was against my wish. 
The lilies in that corner, for example, are 
lineal progeny, heaven knows how many 
times removed, of the lilies my mother 
planted there. These roses are slips from 
other slips of the old cabbage and damask 
and moss roses she used to sit and look at 
with her crewel-work in her lap. The old 
flowers are gone, and yet they are not gone. 
In the same way, my mother has been dead 
for sixty years, and yet this is still her gar- 
den, and she is still here — here in the person 
of me, her son, and of Christian, her great- 
grandson. ’ ’ 

“And I,” commented Lady Cressage, 


127 


. ' ' . ■" 

\ . 

GLORIA MUNDI 

upon a sudden smiling impulse, “I alone am 
an intruding new species — like one of Chelt- 
nam’s ‘niphetos’ buds on the old rose. I 
hasten to extricate myself.” And with a 
bright little nod and mock half-courtesy, she 
caught her gown in one hand, wheeled round 
and moved quickly down the path and 
through the hedge. 

The two men watched her till she van- 
ished. 

“She is a beautiful lady,” observed Chris- 
tian, with enthusiasm ; ‘ ‘ and very courteous, 
too.” 

Lord Julius offered no remark upon this, 
but stood for a little with his gaze appar- 
ently fixed on the point whence she had 
disappeared. Then, without turning his 
head, he said in a gently grave way : 

“If I were you, Christian, I would make 
as few allusions, in mixed company, to my 
father as possible.” 

“Ah, yes! this is what I desired to discuss 
with you!” said the young man, stoutly. 
He swung round to face the other, and his 
eyes sparkled with impatience. ‘ ‘ Everybody 
avoids mention of him ; they turn to some- 
thing else when I speak his name — all but 
those abominable young men who offered 
him insult. That is what I should very 
much like to talk about!” 


128 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“I had thought it might not be neces- 
sary," replied Lord Julius. “At least, I had 
hoped you would pick up the information for 
yourself — a harmless little at a time, and 
guess the rest, and so spare everybody, 
yourself included. But that is precisely 
what you seem not to do; and I dare say I 
was wrong in not talking frankly with you 
at the start. But let me understand first: 
what do you know about your father?" 

“Only that he was a soldier, a professional 
soldier. That I have told you," panted 
Christian. 

“Yes, and a very notable soldier," re- 
sponded the other. “He won the Victoria 
Cross in the Mutiny — the youngest man in 
all India to do so. That is for you to re- 
member always — in your own mind — for 
your own pride and consolation. ’ ’ 

“Ah, yes, always!" murmured the son. 

“And in other services, - too, after he left 
England," the elder man went on, “I have 
understood that he was a loyal and very 
valuable officer to those he fought for. 
This also is something for you to be proud 
of — .but still inside your own mind ! That it is 
necessary to remember — that you must keep 
it to yourself. Forgive my repeating the 
injunction. " 

“Go on!" said Christian. 


129 


GLORIA MUNDI 

“Well,” Lord Julius began, speaking with 
more hesitation, “Ambrose as a soldier was 
magnificent, but you know enough from 
your books to know that splendid soldiers 
may easily be — how shall I say? — not so 
splendid in other walks of life. It is to be 
said for him that he was bare twenty-three 
— poor boy. It was in 1859; and, as misery 
would have it, I was in Syria, traveling with 
my wife. Perhaps if I had been in Eng- 
land, I could have done something. As it 
was, there was no one to help him; and of 
course it may be that he couldn’t have been 
helped. It was a case of a young man 
returning to London, with honors and flat- 
tery enough to turn even an old head, and 
walking blindfold into the worst company in 
Europe. I have no intention of going into 
details. You must take my word for it that 
suddenly four or five young men of great 
families fled to the Continent; and that, 
without much publicity in the papers, there 
was a very miserable sort of scandal after 
their flight. Other names were mentioned 
— but I needn’t go into that. It was to the 
interest of many influential people to hush 
the thing up, and to some extent they suc- 
ceeded. After a while it became even pos- 
sible for the others to come back to England 
— there are many ways of managing such 
130 


GLORIA MUNDI 


matters — but there was one of them who 
never returned.” 

Christian gazed into the old man’s face 
with mute, piteous fixity of concentra- 
tion. 

“This one, of course,” Lord Julius pur- 
sued, picking his words still more cautiously, 
and liking his task less than ever, “was 
your father. The way was smoothed for 
the rest to come back, but not for him — 
that is, at first. Later, when he could have 
returned, he would not. Ambrose had a 
stubborn and bitter temper. He was 
furious with his father, with his family — 
with all England. He would touch none of 
us. Why, I myself went to Sicily many 
years ago — it was as soon as I had got back 
from the East — and learned the facts, and 
found out what could be done ; and I tried 
to see him, and bring him home with me, 
but he would not speak with me, or even 
remain under the same roof with me — 
and so I could do nothing. Or yes, there 
was one thing — that is to maintain some 
kind of watch over you — after his death, 
and that we did. My own idea was to have 
brought you over to England years ago — as 
soon as your mother died — but Emanuel 
thought otherwise.” 

He paused here in his narrative, for the 


GLORIA MUNDI 


reason that his companion was obviously no 
longer listening to him. 

Christian had moved a step or two away, 
and with a white, set face was looking off 
over the hill-tops. His profile showed 
brows knitted and lips being bitten, under 
the stress of an internal tempest. It seemed 
to the old man a long time that he stood 
thus, in dry-eyed, passionate battle with his 
own mind. Then, with a sudden, decisive 
gesture he spread out his hands and turned 
impulsively to Lord Julius. 

“You are an old man, and a wise one, and 
you were my father’s friend and you are my 
friend!’’ he said, with trembling earnest- 
ness. “I should be a fool not to pay heed to 
what you tell me. You advise that I do not 
mention my father more than is necessary. 
Eh bien, I take your advice. Without doubt it 
is right — just as it is right that I should speak 
less of my brother Salvator. I have remem- 
bered that since you warned me, and now I 
will remember this. But I should like’’ — he 
came forward as he spoke, still with extended 
hands, and looked with entreating earnest- 
ness up into. the other’s face — “I should like 
to have you understand that Salvator is my 
brother not any the less, and that I love and 
honor and have pride in my father more 
than before. This I keep in my own mind, 
132 


GLORIA MUNDI 


as you advise — but one thing I will do for 
every one to take note of. I will write my 
name always ‘Tower.’ ” 

The great-uncle put a big, comforting hand 
on his shoulder. “I should not dream of 
blaming you,” he said, gently. ‘‘But there 
is a man to tell us luncheon is ready. ’ ’ 

He nodded comprehension to the servant 
who had appeared at the opening in the 
hedge, and, still with his hand on Christian’s 
shoulder, began to move in that direction. 

‘ ‘ One other matter, ’ ’ said the young man 
in lowered tones and hurriedly — ‘‘from the 
hill above, awhile ago, I saw my grand- 
father — in his chair, on the balcony. You 
said just now that my father hated him — 
was furious with him. Did he behave 
cruelly to my father?” 

‘‘Oh, no-o,” replied Julius, with an indefi- 
nite upward inflection on the deliberate 
negative. “Not cruelly.” 

“But unjustly?” 

“Oh, no, not unjustly, either — if only 
because he never in his life possessed the 
dimmest inkling of what justice meant. 
The duke is my brother, and I know him 
much better than any one else living, and so 
I am free to speak frankly about him. He 
has been a duke nearly eighty years — which 
is, I believe, unprecedented — but he has 
i33 


GLORIA MUNDI 


been an ass still longer than that. ’ ’ After 
a pause he added: “I am going to take you 
to him this afternoon. * * 

Christian hung his head as they walked 
along, and framed in his depressed mind 
more than one further inquiry about this 
grandsire of his, who held so august a sta- 
tion, and yet had been dismissed so con- 
temptuously, but they did not translate 
themselves into speech. Nor, later, during 
the luncheon, was this great personage 
more than indirectly alluded to. 

The way to this luncheon had led through 
three or four large rooms, opening one upon 
the other by small doors, the immediate ap- 
proaches to which were given the effect of 
passageways by means of screens. What 
these apartments were used for, or how the 
residents of the castle distinguished them 
apart in their own minds, Christian could 
not imagine. To his rapid and curious 
inspection, they seemed all alike — each 
with its bare, indifferently polished floor, its 
huge stone fireplace, its wainscoting, walls 
and ceiling of dark, umber-hued wood, and 
its scant store of furniture which only height- 
ened the ruling impression of big empty 
spaces. An occasional portrait was dimly to 
be discerned up in the duskiness of the oak 
panels, but the light from the narrow and 
i34 


GLORIA MUNDI 


small-paned windows was too faint to ex- 
amine them by. More cheerless or appar- 
ently useless rooms the young man had 
never seen. 

Lord Julius seemed to guess his thoughts. 
“This is all an old part — what might be 
called mid-Plantagenet, ” he explained, as 
they went along. “My father had these 
rooms pulled about a good deal, and done up 
according to Georgian standards, but it was 
time and money wasted. Even if big win- 
dows were cut through they would be too 
dark for comfort, to our notions. The men 
who made them, of course, cared nothing at 
all about daylight, at least inside a house. 
They spent as little time as possible under 
roofs, to begin with ; they rose at daybreak 
and went to bed at dark. When they were' 
forced to be under cover, they valued security 
above all things, and the fewer openings 
there were in the walls, the better they 
liked it. They did no reading whatever, 
but after they had gorged themselves with 
food, sat around the fire and drank as much 
as they could hold, and listened to the silly 
rubbish of their professional story-tellers 
and ballad-singers till they fell asleep. If it 
happened that they wanted to gamble in- 
stead, a handful of rush-lights or a torch on 
the wall was enough to see the dice by. 
i35 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Really, what did they want more? And for 
that matter, what do most of their lineal de- 
scendants want more either? Light enough 
to enable them to tell a spade from a heart, 
and perhaps to decipher the label on a bottle 
now and then. Nothing more. The fashion 
of the day builds plate-glass windows round 
them, but it is truly a gross superfluity. * ’ 
The room in which Lady Cressage and the 
luncheon-table awaited them was of a more 
hospitable aspect. A broad expanse of 
lawn, and of distant trees and sky-line fad- 
ing away in the sunny autumn haze, made a 
luminous picture of the high embrasured 
window stretching almost from corner to 
corner across one side. By contrast with 
the other apartments, the light here was 
brilliant. Christian, with a little apolo- 
getic bow and gesture to the others, 
dallied before the half-dozen portraits on 
the walls, examined the modeling of the 
blackened oak panels about them, and 
lingered in admiring scrutiny of the great 
carved chimney-piece above the cavernous 
hearth, on which a fire of logs crackled 
pleasantly. This chimney-piece was fairly 
architectural in its dimensions. It was as 
full of detail, and seemed almost as big, as 
the west front of a church, and he tipped his 
head back to look up at its intricate, yet 
136 


GLORIA MUNDI 


flowing scheme of scrollwork, its heraldic 
symbolism used now for decoration, now to 
point the significance, as it were, of the cen- 
tral escutcheon — and all in old wood of so 
ripe a nut-brown color that one seemed to 
catch a fragrance exhaled from it. 

“That is the best thing here,” said Edith 
Cressage, moving over to stand beside him. 
“It came from Ludlow Castle. Those are 
the arms of the Mortimers. It is the 
Mortimers, isn’t it?” She turned to Lord 
Julius for support. “I always confuse them 
with the De Lacys. * ’ 

“Yes, the Mortimers,” answered Julius, 
as servants entered, and they took their 
seats. “But almost every other family of 
the Marches is represented in the devices 
scattered about. You can see the arrows of 
the Egertons, the eagles of the Grandisons, 
and up above, the corbies or ravens of the 
Corbets, and so on. That was the period 
when the Marches ruled England, and their 
great families, all married and intermarried 
and bolstered up by the feudal structure, 
were like a nation by themselves. The 
Mortimers, you know, ’ ’ he added, turning to 
Christian, “became practically kings of 
England. At least they had their grand- 
sons on the throne — but they couldn’t hold 
it after they had got it. The day of these 
i37 


GLORIA MUNDI 


parts was really over before Bosworth Field. 
The printing press and Protestantism fin- 
ished the destruction of its nobility. Only 
a house here and there has survived among 
us. Some few of the old names are pre- 
served, like flies in amber, over in Ireland, 
but I should not know where to look to-day 
for a De Lacy, or a Tregoz, or a west 
country Le Strange, let alone a Mortimer. 
I suppose, in fact, we have more of the Mor- 
timer blood among us than there is any- 
where else.” 

Christian, seated so that he faced the great 
armorial pageant spread as a background to 
the fair head of the lady, smiled wistfully at 
his companions, but said nothing. The 
words about his sharing the blood of kings 
were like some distant, soft music in his 
ears. He looked at the escutcheons and 
badges, and sought in a dreamy way to 
familiarize himself with the fact that they 
were a part of his own history — that the 
grandeur they told of was in truth his per- 
sonal heritage. 

There was some talk going on between 
the others — conversation which, for a time, 
he scarcely strove to follow. Lord Julius 
had begun by expressing his joy at the 
absence from luncheon of the physician 
whom circumstances kept on the premises, 
138 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and from this he drifted to an attack upon 
doctors as a class. He denounced them 
root and branch, as impostors and parasites, 
who darkened and embittered human life by 
fostering all the mean cowardices of small- 
brained people, in order that they might 
secure a dishonest livelihood by pretending 
to dispel the horrors their own low tricks 
had conjured up. The robust old gentleman 
developed these violent theories without heat 
or any trace of excitement, and even main- 
tained a genial expression of countenance 
while he spoke. Lady Cressage seemed 
entertained, and even helped on the diatribe 
now and again with pertinent quips of her 
own. But Christian could see very little 
sense in such an assault upon a respect- 
able profession, and his attention wandered 
willingly again to the splendid chimney- 
piece. He resolved to learn all there was to 
learn of the heraldry and local history 
embodied in this sumptuous decoration, 
without delay. But then, on every conceiv- 
able side there was so much to learn ! 

Suddenly he became aware that his 
thoughts had concentrated themselves on 
the extraordinary badness of the luncheon 
he was eating. Here at least was some- 
thing Caermere could not teach him about — 
nor, for that matter, as it seemed, all Eng- 


139 


GLORIA MUNDI 


land either. Since his arrival in the coun- 
try, he reflected, he had not encountered 
one even tolerable dish. Vegetables and 
fish half raw, meats tasteless and without 
sauce or seasoning, bread heavy and sour, 
coffee unrecognizable, the pastry a thing 
too ridiculous for words — so his indictment 
shaped itself. He felt it his duty to argue 
to himself that quite likely this graceless 
and repellent diet was the very thing which 
made the English such physical and tempera- 
mental masters of the world, but the effort 
left him sad. He made a resolution that if 
ever Caermere were his a certain white- 
capped Agostino, in Cannes, should be 
imported forthwith. Then he became con- 
scious again of what was being said at the 
table. 

“If you could only imagine,” Lady Cres- 
sage was saying to Lord Julius, “what a 
boon your coming has been ! I had posi- 
tively almost forgotten what intelligent con- 
versation was like. It seems ages since I 
last heard ten consecutive words strung 
together on a thought of any description. 
Let me see — it was June when you were last 
down, with Sir Benjamin Alstead; he has 
been here once since — but in your absence 
he put on such a pompous ‘eminent-physi- 
cian’ manner that really I oughtn’t to count 


140 


GLORIA MUNDI 

him at all — and with that exception, from 
June to October, civilization has left poor 
me entirely out of its reckoning. But per- 
haps” — they had risen now, and there was a 
certain new frankness, almost confidence of 
appeal in her glance into his face — ‘‘per- 
haps, as matters have turned, you will come 
oftener henceforth?” 

Lord Julius nodded. ‘‘It is quite likely,” 
he said, and stretched forth his hand sig- 
nificantly to Christian’s shoulder. “But 
you were going to show him the house — and 
I suppose I may come along too. There is 
half an hour before we go to my brother — 
and our train does not leave Clune till nearly 
six. ’ ’ 

‘‘You are not going to-day! and he too?” 
she exclaimed, hurriedly. 

The old man nodded again. ‘‘We are 
expected at Emanuel’s to-night,” he 
answered. Then, as Christian had moved 
toward the window and seemed beyond hear- 
ing, he added, in a smiling aside, ‘‘There is 
one reason for dragging him away that is 
comical enough. It wouldn’t do for him to 
dine at Caermere in morning clothes, and so 
far as I can see he has no others. ” 

‘‘He could be too tired to dine,” she sug- 
gested, quickly, in a confidential murmur. 
‘‘Or, for that matter, there is a room full of 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Porlock’s things — I suppose — I suppose poor 
Cressage’s — would be too big for him. Oh, 
it’s too dreadful to have him whisked off 
like this! Can’t you send a telegram 
instead?” 

Her tone was as frank as her speech — and 
on the instant her glance at his face made 
keen inquiry whether it had not been too 
frank. 

He smiled in a tolerant, almost amused 
way. 4 4 Oh, he will return all in good time, ’ ’ 
he assured her, gently enough. “Caermere 
will see plenty of him, later on.” 

“Yes, but who can tell where I shall be 
then?” The necessity for speaking in an 
undertone gave her words an added in- 
tensity of feeling. “And it isn’t only him — 
I had hoped you would be stopping some 
days at least — for I wanted to speak with 
you about this very thing. My position 
here — the uncertainty of everything — is 
intolerable to bear.” She lifted her head, 
and turned her direct gaze into his eyes. 
“If only you liked me a little better, I could 
discuss the matter more freely with you.” 

“Humbug!” replied Lord Julius, with a 
geniality which was at least superficially 
reassuring. “You shouldn’t say such 
things, much less think them. I can under- 
stand your impatience — but it will be pos- 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


sible to straighten out affairs very soon now. 
I don’t think you will be found to have 
suffered by the delay. ’ ’ 

“Oh, that is all right," she answered, 
almost pettishly. “Everybody assures me 
of the most magnanimous intentions — but 
in the meantime" — she checked herself, 
tossed her head in resentment, apparently, 
at the tears which had started to her eyes, 
and forced herself to smile — “in the mean- 
time, you must forgive my tantrums. It is 
so depressing here — all alone — or worse 
than alone! I’m really no longer fit to 
receive anybody. But now” — she raised 
her voice in an eager simulation of gaiety — 
“shall the personally conducted tour 
begin?" 

Caermere had been inaccessible to so many 
generations of sightseers that no formula 
for its exhibition remained. The party 
seemed to Christian to wander at haphaz- 
ard through an interminable succession of 
rooms, many of them small, some of them 
what he could only think of as over-large, 
but all insufficiently lighted, and all sug- 
gesting in their meager appointments and 
somber dejection of aspect a stage of exist- 
ence well along on the downward path to 
ruin. He had only to look about him to 
perceive why Caermere had long ago been 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


removed from the list of England’s show- 
places. His companions between them kept 
his attention busy with comments upon the 
history and purpose of the apartments they 
passed through, but beyond a general sense 
of futile and rather shabby immensity he 
gained very little from the inspection. The 
mood to postpone comprehension of what 
he was seeing to another and a more con- 
venient time was upon him, and he almost 
willfully yielded to it. 

Once, when impulse prompted him to 
climb a little ladder-like staircase, and push 
open a door from which the black dust fell 
in a shower, and he discerned in the gloom 
of the attic chamber piles of armor and 
ancient weapons, a thrill of fleeting excite- 
ment ran through his veins. 

“They say that Prince Llewelyn’s armor is 
there, ’’called up Lord Julius from the land- 
ing below. “Some day we will have it all 
out, and cleaned and furbished up. But 
don’t go in now! You’ll get covered with 
dirt. I used to venture in there and rum- 
mage about once in a while when I was a 
boy,’’ he added as Christian came down. 
“But even then one came out black as a 
sweep. ’ ’ 

There were fine broad stretches of rugged 
landscape to be seen here and there from 


144 


GLORIA MUNDI 


narrow casements in the older, higher parts 
they were now traversing, and occasionally 
Christian was able to interest himself as well 
in details of primitive, half-obliterated 
ornamentation over arches and doorways of 
early periods, but he was none the less 
almost glad when they came out at last into 
a spacious upper hallway, and halted in tacit 
token that the journey was at an end. 

“Now I will leave you,” said the lady, 
with lifted skirt and a foot poised tentatively 
over the first step of the broad descending 
stairs. 4 4 1 shall have tea in the conservatory 
when you come down. ” 

Christian felt that something must be said. 
“It has all been very wonderful to me,” he 
assured her. “Iam afraid I did not seem 
very appreciative — but that is because the 
place is too huge, too vast, to be understood 
quite at once. And I am so new to it all — 
you will understand what I mean. But I 
thank you very much. ” 

She smiled brightly on him and nodded to 
them both, and passed down the stairway. 
Christian was all at once conscious, as his 
eyes followed her, that there was a novel 
quickening or fluttering of his heart’s action. 
For a brief second, the sensation somehow 
linked itself in his thoughts with the tall, 
graceful figure receding from him, and he 
*45 


GLORIA MUNDI 


bent forward to grasp more fully the picture 
she made, moving sedately along, with a 
hand like a lily on the wide black rail. 
Then he suddenly became aware that this 
was an error, and that he was trembling 
instead because the moment for confronting 
his grandfather had come. 

Lord Julius, indeed, had already opened a 
massive mahogany door at the right of the 
stairs, and signaled to him now to follow. 


146 


CHAPTER VII 


What Christian first perceived about the 
duke’s apartments was that they had an odor 
quite peculiar to themselves. The series of 
small and badly lighted anterooms through 
which he followed Lord Julius — rooms with 
pallet-beds, clothes hung against the walls, 
and other somewhat squalid signs of domes- 
tic occupation — were full of this curiously 
distinctive smell. It was not so obvious in 
the larger and better-lighted chamber 
beyond, which the doctor in residence had 
converted to his own uses, and where he sat 
now reading a book, merely rising momen- 
tarily to bow as they passed. But in the 
next room — the big sleeping apartment, with 
its faded pretensions of stateliness of 
appointment, and its huge, high-posted bed, 
canopied by old curtains embroidered with 
heraldic devices in tarnished gilt threads — 
the odor was more powerful than ever, 
despite the fact that a broad window-door 
was open upon the balcony beyond. The 
young man’s keen sense was baffled by this 
pervasive scent — compounded as it seemed 


147 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to be of all the ancient castle’s mnstiness, of 
sharp medicinal vapors and of something 
else at once familiar and unknown. He 
sniffed inquiringly at it, as they neared the 
window, and apparently Lord Julius heard 
him, for he remarked over his shoulder : 

“It is the dogs that you smell. They’ve 
practically removed the kennel up here. ’ ’ 

On the stone floor of the balcony outside 
there were to be seen, indeed, some dozen 
old hounds, for the most part lying sleepily 
in the sunshine, with their heads pointed 
toward a large, half-covered reclining chair 
placed near the balustrade, and occasionally 
opening a drowsy eye to regard its occupant. 
There were a few dogs of other kinds as 
well, Christian noted upon a second glance, 
and one of these, a bulky black creature 
with a broad snout and hair curled tight 
like astrakhan fur, sat close to the chair and 
was thrusting its muzzle against a hand at 
its side. 

This hand was what Christian saw first of 
his grandfather — an immense limp hand, 
with thick fingers twisted and misshapen, and 
skin of an almost greenish pallor. The 
dog’s nose, thrust under it, moved this inert 
hand about, and the young man felt himself 
thrill unpleasantly, for some reason, at the 
spectacle. 


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GLORIA MUNDI 


At the further end of the balcony two men 
in livery lounged against the wall, but upon 
a signal from Lord Julius they went in. 
The latter, threading his way among the 
hounds, led Christian round to the side of 
the chair. 

“This is Ambrose’s boy,” he said, bend- 
ing a little and raising his voice. “He is 
Christian, too.’’ 

Upon the chair was stretched, in a half- 
sitting posture, the gigantic frame of a very 
old man. The grandson looked upon him 
in silence for a long time, his mind confused 
with many impressions. The vast shoulders 
and high, bullet-like head, propped up by 
pillows in the partial shadow of the hood, 
seemed vaguely to recall the vision his baby 
memory had preserved of his own father. 
But in detail there was no resemblance. Or 
yes, there were resemblances, but they were 
blurred almost beyond recognition by the 
rough touch of time. The face, with its 
big, harsh features and bushing brows, and 
its frame of stiff white whiskers under the 
jaws and chin, had something in it which for 
an instant the young man seemed to 
identify; then the unnatural effect of its uni- 
form yellow-clay color drove all thoughts of 
its human relationships from his mind, and 
he saw nothing but a meaningless mask. It 


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GLORIA MUNDI 

was as devoid of significance, indeed, as if it 
had been in a coffin. The eyes were open 
and they seemed to be fixed upon the distant 
rolling prospect of hills and forest, but 
whether they were seeing anything, Chris- 
tian could not imagine. They certainly had 
not been turned to include him in their 
survey. The livid right hand, swaying as 
the black dog pushed it with its nose, was 
the only thing about the duke that moved. 

4 4 He does not know I am here, ’ ’ said Chris- 
tian, at last. He spoke instinctively, with 
the ceremonious affectation of awe which 
one puts on in the presence of death. His 
grandfather hardly impressed him as being 
alive and still less made any appeal to his 
sense of kinship. He had expected to be 
overwhelmed with emotion at the meeting, 
but he found himself barely interested. His 
wandering glance chanced to take note of 
some of the dogs’ faces about the chair. 
They were all alertly watching him, and the 
profoundly wise look in their eyes caught his 
attention. No doubt they were dreadful 
fools, if the truth could be known, but the 
suggestion of cultured sagacity in their gaze 
was extraordinary. He looked back again 
at his grandfather, and tried to say to him- 
self that he was a great noble, the head of 
an ancient and proud line, and the actual 


GLORIA MUNDI 


father of his father — but the effort failed to 
spur his fancy. He turned to Lord Julius 
and lifted his brows in wearied interro- 
gation. 

“Move round in front of him,” counseled 
the other. “Get yourself in the range of 
his eyes.” 

Christian obeyed, and, flushing a little 
with self-consciousness, strove to intercept 
the aged man’s gaze. There was no change 
upon the ashen face under the hood to tell 
him whether he had succeeded or not. The 
impulse to grimace, to wave his arms about, 
to compel attention by any wild and violent 
device, forced him to smile in the midst of 
his perplexed constraint. He stared for a 
few moments longer at the gaunt, immovable 
figure — then shrugged his shoulders, and, 
stepping over a dog or two, made bold to 
rejoin Lord Julius. 

“I do not see that it is of any use,” he 
said, with annoyance. “If you wish to go, 
I am quite ready. ’ ’ 

Lord Julius lifted his brows in turn, and 
looked at his grand-nephew with curiosity. 
“I said nothing about going, that I recall,” 
he began, with an effect of reproof in his 
tone. But then he seemed to think better 
of it, and gave an abrupt little laugh. “It 
isn’t very invigorating, I’m bound to admit,” 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he confessed, cheerfully enough. “Wait a 
moment, and I’ll stir him up a bit.” 

He bent forward again, with his head at 
the edge of the hood, and shouted into it: 
“If you want to see Ambrose’s boy, here he 
is! If you don’t want to see him, say so, 
and waste no more of our time!” 

To Christian’s surprise, the duke took 
instant cognizance of this remark. His 
large face brightened, or at least altered its 
aspect, into something like animation ; his 
eyes emerged from their cover of lethargy, 
and looked alive. 

“My back is very bad to-day,” he 
remarked, in a voice which, though it bore 
the querulous note of the invalid, was unex- 
pectedly robust in volume. “And I cannot 
make out whether the numbness is passing 
down below my knee or not.” 

Lord Julius nodded, as if confirming to 
himself some previous suspicion. “I 
thought as much,” he commented in an 
aside to the young man. “It’s merely his 
endearing little way. Have patience, and 
we’ll draw the badger yet.” 

He bawled once more into the hood, with 
an added peremptoriness of tone: “I 
explained it all to you, hours ago, and I’m 
sure you understand it perfectly. Christian 
naturally wished to pay his respects to you, 
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GLORIA MUNDI 

but if your back is too bad, why, there’s no 
more to be said — and we’ll be off. Good- 
bye to you!” 

“Did I know his mother? Who was his 
mother? I have no recollection of her.” 
The duke spoke peevishly, twitching his 
sunken lips in what was plainly an effort to 
pout them. Christian noted with curiosity 
that as he surrendered himself to such 
mental exertion as the talk demanded, the 
aged man’s face grew disagreeably senile in 
effect. An infinity of gossamer-like wrinkles 
showed themselves now, covering the entire 
countenance in a minute network. 

“No, you didn’t know his mother!” replied 
Lord Julius, with significant curtness. “It 
is more to the point that you should know 
him , since he is to be your successor. Look 
at him — and say something to him ! ’ ’ 

The duke managed to testify on his stiff- 
ened lineaments the reluctance with which 
he did what he was told, but he shifted his 
eyes in a sidelong fashion to take a brief 
survey of the young man. “Cressage could 
have given you five stone ten,” he said to 
him, brusquely, and turned his eyes away. 

Christian cast a look of bewildered inquiry 
up at Lord Julius, but encountered only a 
smile of contemptuous amusement. He 
summoned the courage to declare, in a voice 


153 


GLORIA MUNDI 


which he hoped was loud enough: “I am 
glad to hear, sir, that this is one of your 
good days. I hope you will have many more 
of them!” 

Of this assurance His Grace seemingly 
took no note. After a short pause he began 
speaking again. “There’s a dog up here,” 
he said, with the gravity befitting a subject 
to which he had given much thought, “that 
I’m sure falls asleep, and yelps in her 
dreams, and disturbs me most damnably, 
and I believe it’s that old bitch Peggy, and 
when I mention it the fellows swear that 
she’s been taken away, but I suspect that 
she hasn’t. ’’ 

“We will look to it,’’ put in Lord Julius 
perfunctorily. He added, upon an after- 
thought, “Did the guns annoy you, this fore- 
noon?” 

The duke’s thoughts were upon something 
else. He turned his eyes again, and appar- 
ently spoke to Christian. “A good hearty 
cut across the face with a whip,” he said, 
with kindling energy, “is what’d teach 
swine like Griffiths their place — and then 
let ’em summons you and be damned. A 
farmer who puts up barbed- wire — no gentle- 
man would listen to his evidence for a min- 
ute. Treat them like the vermin they are — 
and they’ll understand that. Cressage had 
154 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the proper trick with them — a kick in the 
stomach first and reasons afterward. That’s 
the only way this country can be hunted. 
When I got to riding over eighteen stone, 
and couldn’t take anything, that ruffian 
Griffiths screwed up his gates and sent me 
round the turnpike like a damned peddler, 
and Ambrose — it was Ambrose, wasn’t it? — 
or am I thinking of Cressage? But they 
weren’t together — here, Julius! It was you 
who were speaking of Ambrose! What 
about him? By God, I wish he had my 
back ! ’ ’ 

Lord Julius, with the smile in his beard 
hardening toward scorn, took Christian by 
the arm. “I think you’ve, had enough 
grandfather to go on with, ’ ’ he said, quietly. 
“Never mind making your adieux. They 
would be quite wasted on him.’’ 

Without further words, they turned and 
moved away through the dogs to the win- 
dow, and so into the house. The doctor, 
still at his book, rose once more upon their 
approach, and this time Lord Julius halted 
to speak with him. 

“His Grace seems to ramble in his mind a 
good deal more than he did before luncheon. 
Do you see a change in this respect — say 
week by week?” 

“It is not observable in gradations, Lord 
155 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Julius, ” answered the physician, a stout, 
sandy young man, who assumed his air of 
deference with considerable awkwardness; 
“sometimes he recovers a very decided 
lucidity after what had seemed to be a pro- 
longed lapse in the other direction. But on 
the whole I should say there was a per- 
ceptible — well, loss of faculty. He knows 
the dogs, however, quite as well as ever — 
distinguishes them apparently by touch, 
remembers all their names, and recalls 
anecdotes about them, and, very often, 
about their mothers too. Fletcher tells me 
His Grace hasn’t once miscalled a hound.” 

“They make an abominable atmosphere up 
here, ’ ’ commented the other. 

The doctor smiled lugubriously. “I can’t 
deny that, Lord Julius,” he replied, “but all 
the same they are the most important part 
of the treatment. If we took them away, 
His Grace would die within the week.” 

“Unhappy dogs!” mused Lord Julius, 
partly to himself, and walked on. It was 
not until they were half-way down the big 
staircase that Christian felt impelled to 
speak. 

“I should much like to know,” he began, 
with diffident eagerness — “you have already 
spoken so plainly about my grandfather — 
the question will not seem rude to him, I 
156 


GLORIA MUNDI 


hope — but when he was well, before the 
paralysis, was he in any respect like what he 
is now?” 

‘‘I should say,” answered Lord Julius, 
in a reflective way, ‘‘that he is at present 
rather less objectionable than formerly. 
One can make the excuse of illness for him 
now — and that covers a multitude of sins. 
But when he was in health — and he had the 
superb — what shall I say? — riotous health of 
a whale — he was very hard to bear. You 
have seen him and you have observed his 
mental and moral elevation. He remembers 
his dogs more distinctly than he does his 
children. In the Almanach de Gotha he is 
classed among princes, but what he dwells 
upon most fondly among his public duties is 
the kicking of tenant-farmers in the stomach 
when they try to save their crops from 
being ruined by the hunt. I may tell you, I 
was in two minds about taking you to him 
at all, and now I think I regret having done 
so.” 

‘ ‘ N o-o, ’ ’ said Christian, thoughtfully. “It 
is better as it is. I am glad to have seen 
him, and to have you tell me about him, 
frankly, as you have done. It all helps me 
to understand the position — and it seems 
that there is a great deal that needs to be 
understood. I can see already that there is 


157 


GLORIA MUNDI 


strange blood in the Torrs.” He paused on 
the bottom step as he spoke, and turned to 
his companion with a wistful smile. “There 
is an even bolder question I should like to 
ask — how does it happen that you are so 
different? How do you account for your- 
self?” 

Lord Julius laughed. “Oh, that is a long 
story,” he said, “but I can put it into a 
word for you. I was made by my wife. I 
married a woman so noble and clever and 
wise and strong that I couldn’t help becom- 
ing a decent sort of fellow in spite of myself. 
But I am going to talk to you about all that, 
later on. It is better worth talking about 
than anything else under the sun. Oh — 
Barlow, please!” 

The old butler had passed from one door 
to another in the hall, and turned now as he 
was called, with a hand behind him upon the 
knob. Lord Julius, approaching, exchanged 
some words with him upon the subject of his 
afternoon’s plans. 

Christian, watching this venerable servant 
with curiosity, as a type novel to his experi- 
ence, discovered suddenly that his scrutiny 
was being returned. Barlow, while listen- 
ing attentively and with decorously slow 
nods of comprehension to what was being 
said to him, had his eyes fixed aslant, beyond 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


his interlocutor’s shoulder, upon the young 
stranger. Christian encountered this gaze, 
and saw it waver and flutter aside, as from 
force of polite habit, and then creep back 
again. This happened more than once, and 
Christian began to feel that it had some 
meaning. He observed that the butler 
inclined his head at last and whispered 
something — his pale, wan old face showed 
it to be an inquiry — into the other’s ear. 
The action explained itself so perfectly that 
Christian was in no way surprised to see 
Lord Julius turn smilingly, and nod toward 
himself. 

“Yes, he is Ambrose’s son,” he said. 
“He has come to take his place. I know 
you for one won’t be sorry — eh, Barlow?” 

It was clear to the young man’s percep- 
tions that Lord Julius spoke as to one who 
was a friend as well as a servant. The note 
of patriarchal kindness in the tone appealed 
gratefully to him, and the affectionate men- 
tion of his father’s name was sweet in his 
ears. A strange thrill of emotion, a kind of 
aimless yet profound yearning, possessed 
him as he moved forward. On the instant 
he realized that this was how he had ex- 
pected to feel in the presence of his grand- 
father. The fact that the tenderness within 
him was appealed to instead by this gentle, 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


sad-eyed old family dependant seemed to 
him to have something beautiful and very 
touching in it. Tears came into his eyes. 

“You remember my father, then,” he 
said, and the breaking of his voice carried 
him into the heart of this sudden new mood 
of self-abandonment. “You would have 
known him as a little child — yes? — and you 
— you — ’’ he paused, to dash away the tears 
with his hand, and strive to regain some con- 
trol over his facial muscles — “you will have 
in your memory the good things about him 
— the boyish, pleasant things — and you loved 
him for them, did you not?” 

Old Barlow, trembling greatly, and with 
a faint flush upon his white cheeks, stared 
confusedly at the young man as he ad- 
vanced. “I held him on his first pony, sir,” 
he stammered forth, and then shook his 
head in token that he could utter no more. 
His glistening eyes said the rest. 

Christian flung his arms round the sur- 
prised old man’s neck, and kissed him on 
both cheeks, and then, with head bowed 
upon his shoulder, sobbed aloud. 


160 


PART II 


CHAPTER VIII 

The music of a spirited and tireless band 
of robins helped Christian to wake next 
morning-. The character of their cheerful 
racket defined itself very slowly to his 
drowsy consciousness. He lay for a long 
time with closed eyes, listening to it, and 
letting his mind drift quite at random among 
the thoughts which it suggested. He knew 
they were robins because his hostess had said 
he would hear them; he lazily pictured to 
himself the tiny red-breasts gathered in the 
shrubbery outside, in obedience to some 
mysterious signal of hers, and singing to 
order thus briskly and unwearyingly to make 
good her promise. 

In what gay, high spirits the little fellow 
sang! The sun must be shining, to account 
for so much happiness. He accepted the 
idea with a sense of profound pleasure, and 
appropriated it to his own wonderful case. 

161 


GLORIA MUNDI 


For him, it was as if happiness had never 
existed before. 

“ ‘ Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays, 
And twenty caged nightingales do sing.’ ” 

He murmured the lines in indolent reverie, 
then opened his eyes, and smiled to think 
where he was, and what he had become a 
part of. Lifting himself on his elbow, he 
looked about him. The beauties of the 
apartment had not been lost upon him the 
previous evening. He had carried them 
with him in vague processional magnificence 
on his devious march through dreamland ; he 
surveyed them again now in the morning 
light, rising after a while to pull aside the 
curtains, and bring in the full sunshine. 

The room was, he said over and over to 
himself, ^the most exquisite thing he had 
ever seen. The ruling color was of some 
blue which could almost be thought a green, 
and which embraced as complementary 
decoration many shades of ocher and soft 
yellowish browns in woodwork, and in the 
thick, fleecy rugs underfoot. Around the 
four sides, at the level of his eyes, ran a con- 
tinuous band of portraits — the English draw- 
ings of Holbein reproduced in the dominant 
tint of the room, set solidly into the wall, and 
separated from one another only by thin 
162 


GLORIA MUNDI 


strips of the same tawny oak which framed 
them at top and bottom. The hooded, high- 
bosomed ladies, the cavaliers in hats and 
plumes and pointed beards, the smooth- 
faced, shrewd-eyed prelates and statesmen in 
their caps and fur, all knew him this morn- 
ing for one of their own, as he went along, 
still in his nightshirt, and inspected them 
afresh. They appeared to greet him, and he 
beamed at them in response. 

A dim impression of the earlier morning, 
which had seemed a shadowy passing phase 
of his dreams, revealed itself now to him 
as a substantial fact. Some one had been in 
the room, moving noiselessly about, and had 
spread forth for his use a great variety of 
articles of clothing and of the toilet, most 
of which he beheld for the first time. Over- 
night, his cousin Emanuel’s insistence upon 
his regarding everything in the house as his 
own for the time being, had had no definite 
significance to his mind. He looked now 
through the array of silks and fine cloths, of 
trinkets in ivory and silver and polished 
metals, and began dressing himself with a 
long sigh of delight. 

Recollections of the leave-taking at Caer- 
mere straggled into his thoughts as he 
pursued the task. He had seen Lady Cres- 
sage again in the conservatory, where she 
163 


GLORIA MUNDI 


wore another dress, and had her beautiful 
hair carefully arranged as if in his honor, 
and poured out tea for him and Lord Julius 
in wonderful little cups which his great- 
grandfather, a sailor, had brought from 
China. Of her conversation he recalled lit- 
tle, and still less of the talk of the other lady, 
the actress-person, Mrs. Edward, who had 
joined the party, but whose composed pretty 
face had been too obviously a mask for 
anguish not to dampen everybody’s spirits. 
He wondered now, as he plied his razor on 
the strap, what had become of her husband, 
and of that poor-spirited brother of his. 
Had they joined the pheasant-shooters, after 
their interview with him? The temptation 
to fire upon themselves instead of the birds 
must have sorely beset them. 

But it was pleasanter to begin the retro- 
spect some hours later, when the rough 
country of the Marches, and even Bristol, 
had been left behind. Lord Julius had 
explained to him then, as darkness settled 
upon the low, pasture-land levels they were 
swinging along past, that Somerset was also 
a county of the Torrs; two of their three 
titles were derived from it, indeed, and 
Somerset marriages had brought into the 
family, in the days following the downfall of 
the monasteries, some of the most important 
164 


GLORIA MUNDI 

of its estates. If the dukes had turned their 
backs on Caermere two centuries ago, and 
made their principal seat here in this gentler 
and more equable land, perhaps the family 
history might have been different. Chris- 
tian had absorbed the spirit rather than the 
letter of his companion’s remarks. English 
counties were all one to him, but intuitively 
he had felt that he was getting into a 
kindlier and more congenial atmosphere. 
Although it was a black night, he had stared 
a good deal at the window, trying to dis- 
cern some tokens of this change in the 
dimly lighted, empty stations they glided 
through, or paused reluctantly in. 

When they had finally quitted the train at 
Bridgewater, and had got under way inside 
the carriage waiting for them there, Chris- 
tian had asked whether it was not true that 
the railway servants here were more cour- 
teously obliging than they had been in other 
parts. 

Lord Julius had lightly remarked that it 
might be so; very likely, however, it was 
some indirect effect of the general psychical 
change the family underwent in shifting its 
territorial base. Then he had gone on more 
gravely, alluding for the first time to the 
episode of the butler. 

“You must be prepared to find everything 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


very different, here,” he had said. “There 
is such a thing as having too much past — 
especially when it is of the wrong sort. 
Caermere is as tenacious of its memories as 
a prison — and they are as unpleasant. It 
forces upon you its air of never forgetting a 
single one of its miseries and injuries — and 
you feel that it cannot remember any 
compensating joys. I could see how the 
effect of it got into your blood, and broke 
your nerve. Under ordinary circumstances 
men do not kiss their butlers, or even sob 
on their bosoms. But I understood per- 
fectly how old Barlow appealed to you. As 
you beheld him he might have stood as 
model for a statue of the Family Grief, chok- 
ing down its yearning to wail over the 
generations gone to the bad. It was all 
right, what you did. For that matter, I was 
precious near raising a howl of lamentation 
myself. One is always alternating between 
tears and curses in that criminal old coal- 
mine of a castle. But now you are over a 
hundred miles away from it all — and if it was 
a thousand the difference couldn’t be greater. 
You will find nothing whatever to cry about 
down here. Nobody has any bad dreams. 
There isn’t a cupboard that ever sheltered 
a skeleton even overnight. In these parts, 
remarkable as it may seem, the Torrs are 
166 


GLORIA MUNDI 


actually regarded with admiration — quite 
the salt of the earth — a trifle eccentric, per- 
haps, but splendid landlords, capable organ- 
izers, uncommonly good masters — and above 
all, happy people who insist that everybody 
about them shall be happy too. It was 
important to show you the other side first — 
at least that was what we decided upon, but 
you are done with that now — and we’ll give 
you something to take the taste out of your 
mouth. ’ ’ 

Christian recalled these assurances, now, 
with a delicious sense of being already 
enfolded and upheld by the processes of their 
fulfillment. The details of his reception at 
the broad, hospitably lighted door of Eman- 
uel’s house crowded in upon his memory, 
and merged themselves with other recollec- 
tions of the later evening hours — the sup- 
per, the long, calm, sweetly intimate talk 
before the fire, the honest, wise, frankly 
affectionate faces into which he had looked 
to say “good-night” — it almost overwhelmed 
him with its weight of unimagined happi- 
ness. He had hardly guessed before what 
other men might mean when they gave a 
loving sound to the word “home. ” Yet now 
the doors of such a home as he could never 
have dreamed of had opened to him — to him, 
the homeless, lonely one ! and he was nestled 
167 


GLORIA MUNDI 


securely in the warm heart of its welcome. 
He could have groaned aloud under the 
burden of his rapture at the thought. 

At last he went downstairs, his misgivings 
about the hour not quite allayed by recol- 
lection of the parting injunction to sleep his 
fill and get up when he liked. There were 
beautiful things to note and linger over on 
every side as he made his way — pictures and 
armor and wonderful inlaid work and tapes- 
tries, all subordinating themselves with dis- 
tinguished good breeding to the fact that they 
were in a home and not a museum — but he 
moved along in rather conscience-stricken 
haste toward the part of the house which had 
seemed to him the previous night to be the 
center of domestic life. He formed a 
sudden resolution, as he explored the lower 
hallway, that when he got some money his 
first purchase should be of a watch. 

After looking into a couple of rooms which 
were clearly not what he sought, Christian 
opened the right door, and confronted a 
breakfast-table, shining in its snowy at- 
tractiveness midway between a window full 
of sunlight and a brightly tiled chimney- 
place, with a fire on the hearth. There was 
no one in the room, and he stood for some 
minutes looking about him, liking very much 
the fresh, light-hued cheerfulness of every- 
168 


GLORIA MUNDI 


thing, but still wishing that some one would 
come to pour his coffee. By degrees, he 
assimilated the idea that the ingredients of 
breakfast were all here to hand. There 
were dishes beside the fire, and this was 
apparently the coffee-pot on the table — a 
covered urn, with a thin spirit-flame trem- 
bling beneath it. He had reached the point 
of deciding to help himself — or should he 
ring the bell instead? — when the door opened 
and the lady of the house came bustling in. 

Mrs. Emanuel, as he styled her in his 
thoughts, looked the very spirit of break- 
fast — buoyant, gay-hearted and full of the 
zest of life. Last night, to the young man’s 
diffident though strenuous inspection, she 
had seemed the embodiment of tender hos- 
pitality in general. Though his glances 
were more confident now, in the brilliant 
morning light, she still gave the impression 
of personifying the influences which she 
made felt about her, rather than exhibiting 
a specific personal image. She was not tall, 
nor yet short ; her face pleased the eye with- 
out suggesting prettiness ; she had the dark, 
clear skin and rounded substance of figure 
which the mind associates with sedate move- 
ments and even languor, but she herself 
moved, thought, spoke with alert vivacity. 
Above all things, a mellow motherliness in 

169 


GLORIA MUNDI 


her had struck the forlorn youth the previous 
evening. Now it seemed much more like 
the sweet playfulness of a fond elder 
sister. 

“You took me at my word; that’s right,” 
she said to him, as they shook hands. “I 
was afraid the man might disturb you, or 
give you the idea you were expected to get 
up. And do you feel perfectly rested now? 
A day or two more will do it, at all events. 
If I’d known how they were dragging you 
about, by night and by dayi But your 
Uncle Julius has no knowledge of even the 
meaning of the word fatigue. Sit here, 
won’t you — and now here’s bacon for you, 
and here’s fish taken this very morning, and 
eggs I’ll ring for to be done as you like them, 
and how much sugar to your coffee? You 
mustn’t think this has been boiling ever 
since morning. It was made when you 
were heard moving about in your room.” 

“I should be so sorry to have kept any- 
body waiting, ’ ’ he began, in shy comment 
upon the discovery that he was eating alone. 

She laughed at him with cordial frank- 
ness. “Waiting?” she echoed merrily. 
“Why, it’s about three o’clock. Lord Julius 
is nearly in London by this time, and the 
rest of us have not only breakfasted, but 
lunched. ’ ’ 


170 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Lord Julius gone?” he asked with wide- 
open eyes. 

She nodded, and raised a reassuring hand. 
“It’s nothing but business. Telegrams came 
early this morning which took him away by 
the first train. He would have gone later 
in the day in any case. He left the most 
fatherly adieux for you — and of course you’ll 
be seeing him soon in London.” 

Christian was puzzled. “But this is his 
home here, is it not?” he asked. 

“Not at all — more’s the pity, ” she replied. 
“We wish for nothing so much as that he 
might make it so — but he elects instead to 
be the slave of the family, and to work like 
a bank-clerk in Brighton instead of cutting 
himself free and living his own life like the 
rest of us, in God’s fresh air. But he comes 
often to us — whenever the rural mood seizes 
him.” She seemed to comprehend the 
doubtful expression on the youth’s face, 
for she added smilingly: “And you mustn’t 
be frightened to be left alone with us. 
You’re as much our blood as you are his — 
and — ” 

“Oh, don’t think that!” he pleaded 
impulsively. “I was never so glad to be 
anywhere in my life as I am to be here. ’ ’ 

Her gray eyes regarded him with kindly 
softness. He saw that they were only in 
171 


GLORIA MUNDI 


part gray eyes — that they were both blues 
and browns in their beautiful coloring, and 
that the outer edge of the iris deepened in 
tint almost to the black of the splendid 
lashes. He returned her look, and held it 
with a tentative smile, that he might the 
longer observe the remarkable eyes. All at 
once it flashed upon him that there was a 
resemblance. 

“Your eyes are like my mother’s,” he 
said, as if in defensive explanation of his 
scrutiny. 

“Tell me about your mother,” she re- 
joined, putting her arms on the table and 
resting her chin upon a finger. “I do not 
think I ever heard her name. ’ ’ 

“It was Coppinger — Mary Coppinger. I 
never saw the name anywhere else.” He 
added hesitatingly: “My brother told me 
that her father was a soldier — an officer — 
who became in his old age very poor, and 
was at last a gardener for some rich man at 
Malta, and my mother gave lessons as a 
governess to support herself, and it was 
there she met my father. ’ ’ 

The lady seemed most interested in the 
name. “Coppinger, is it!” she exclaimed, 
nodding her head at him. “No wonder my 
heart warmed at the sight of you. Why, 
now, to look at you — of course you’re County 


172 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Cork. You’re our slender dark type to per- 
fection.” 

“I am afraid I do not understand,” he 
murmured. 

“Why, she could not have that name and 
be anything- but a County Cork woman. 
Who ever heard of a Coppinger anywhere 
else? Only it is pronounced with a soft 
‘g, ’ not hard, as you speak it. I wonder — but 
that can wait ; her father will be easily enough 
traced. And so you are an Irishman, too!” 

Christian looked abashed at the confusing 
suggestion. “I think I am all English,” he 
said vaguely. 

She laughed again. “Are you turning 
your back on us? Did you not know it? I 
also am Irish. No doubt I am some sort of 
cousin of yours on my own account, as 
well as on Emanuel’s. There are Coppin- 
gers in my own family, and in most of those 
that we have intermarried with. Your 
mother was a Protestant, of course.” 

He shook his head apprehensively, as if 
fearful that his answer must give pain. 
“No, she went to mass like other people, 
and I was sent to the Brothers of the Chris- 
tian School. But she was not in any degree 
a devotee , and for that matter,” he added 
in a more confident tone, “I myself am still 
less divot." 


173 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Ah!” was her only comment, and he 
quite failed to gather from it any clue to her 
sentiments on the subject. “Well,” she 
began again, “I’ll not put you through any 
more of your catechism now. Are you 
finished? Then come with me and we will 
find Emanuel, and incidentally you will see 
the place — or portions of it. It will take 
you a long time to see it all. Do you want 
to smoke? Put some of these cigars in your 
pocket — or here are cigarettes if you prefer 
them. Oh, we smoke everywhere. There 
is nothing on earth that we want to do that 
we don’t do — and there’s nothing we don’t 
want to do that any mortal power can make 
us do. There you have the sum of our phi- 
losophy. ” 

He had followed her into the hallway, 
where the doors were open wide to the mel- 
low autumn afternoon. He put on the soft 
shapeless hat she gave him from a collection 
on the antlers, and was inspired to select a 
stick for himself out of the big standful at 
the door. 

“Now I shall walk about,” he said, gaily, 
“quite as if I had never been out of England 
in my life. Is your husband — perhaps- 
shooting?” 

She seemed always to laugh at him. Her 
visible merriment at his question dashed his 
i74 


GLORIA MUNDI 


spirits for an instant. Then he saw how 
genial and honest was her mirth, and smiled 
himself in spontaneous sympathy with it. 

“Don’t dream of suggesting it to him!” 
she adjured the young man, with mock 
solemnity. “He has a horror of the idea 
of killing living creatures. He does not 
even fish for sport — though I confess I hardly 
follow him to that length. And don’t speak 
of him in that roundabout way, but call him 
Emanuel, and call me Kathleen or Kit — 
whichever comes easiest. Merely because 
Thom’s directory swears we’re forty years 
old, we’re not to be made venerable people 
by you. All happy folk belong to the same 
generation, no matter when they were 
born — and — but here is Emanuel now. 

“I have been telling Christian,’’ she con- 
tinued, addressing her husband as he paused 
at the foot of the steps, “that he is to be 
happy here, even in spite of himself. ’ ’ 

Emanuel shook hands with his cousin, and 
nodded pleased approval of his wife’s remark. 
His smile, however, was of a fleeting sort. 
“Nothing has come of the (Enothera experi- 
ments,’’ he announced to her in a serious 
tone. “I’m afraid we must give up the idea 
of the yellow fuchsia. * ’ 


175 


















CHAPTER IX 


Emanuel Torr, at the age of forty, was 
felt by those who knew and loved him almost 
to have justified the very highest of the 
high hopes which his youth had encouraged. 
This intimate circle of appreciation was 
rendered a small one by the circumstances 
of his temperament and choice of career; 
but beyond this his name was familiar to 
many who had never seen him, or who 
remembered him at best as a stripling, yet 
who habitually thought and spoke of him as 
an example and model to his generation. 

At Oxford, twenty years before, he had 
attracted attention of a sort rather peculiar 
to himself. Those who took note of him 
saw foreshadowed the promise, not so much 
of great achievements as of, the development 
and consolidation of a great influence. He 
was not specially distinguished in his work 
at the University, and he made no mark at 
the Union, where there happened at the 
time to be glittering a quite exceptional 
galaxy of future front bench men, judges 
and bishops. In Emanuel’s case, the interest 
he aroused was perhaps more sentimental 


i77 


GLORIA MUNDI 


than intellectual. His mind was seen to be 
of a fine order, but his character was even 
more attractive to the observant eye. The 
facts that he was half Jewish in blood, and 
that in time he would be the possessor of 
enormous wealth, no doubt lent an added 
suggestion of romance to the picture of 
delicate, somewhat coldly modeled features, 
of ivory skin and serious, musing dark eyes, 
and of a rare smile of wonderful sweetness, 
which Oxford men of the mid-seventies still 
associate with his name. It was in the days 
when Disraeli’s remarkable individuality 
was a part of England’s current history, and 
when the English imagination, in part from 
the stimulus of this fact, dwelt upon the 
possibilities of a new Semitic wave of inspira- 
tion and ethical impetus. The dreams, the 
aspirations, the mysterious “perhaps” of 
Daniel Deronda were in men’s minds, and 
Johannesburg had not been so much as 
heard of. 

What the University recognized in the 
youth standing upon the threshold of man- 
hood, had been an article of faith within his 
home since his childhood. It is as well to 
recount at this place the brief story of that 
home. 

At the age of twenty-five Lord Julius Torr, 
engaged in the listless pursuit of that least 
178 


GLORIA MUNDI 


elusive of careers, called diplomacy, found 
himself at The Hague, and yawned his way 
about its brightly scrubbed solitudes for 
some months, until, upon the eve of his 
resolve to have done with the whole business, 
and buy a commission in a line regiment, 
he encountered a young woman who pro- 
foundly altered all his plans in life. It was 
by the merest and unlikeliest of accidents 
that he came to know the Ascarels, father 
and daughter, and at the outset his con- 
descension had seemed to him to be involved 
as well. They were of an old family in the 
Netherlands, Jewish in race but now for 
some generations estranged from the syna- 
gogue, and reputed to be extraordinarily 
wealthy. It was said of them too that they 
were sternly exclusive, but to the brother 
of an English duke this had not appeared to 
possess much meaning. He had previously 
been of some official service to the father, in 
a matter wherein Dutch and English inter- 
ests touched each other at Sumatra; from 
this he came to meet the daughter. He 
had been told by the proud father that she 
was of the blood of the immortal Spinoza, 
and had been so little impressed that he had 
not gone to the trouble of finding out who 
Spinoza was. 

The marriage of young Torr, of the 


179 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Foreign Office, to some Dutch -Jewish heiress 
a half-year later, received only a trifle more 
notice in England than did the news of his 
retirement from his country’s diplomatic 
service. The duke had already four sons, 
and the brother, when it seemed that he 
intended to live abroad, was not at all 
missed. Nearly fifteen years elapsed before 
a mature Lord Julius reappeared in Eng- 
land — a Lord Julius whom scarcely any one 
found recognizable. He bore small visible 
relation to the aimless and indolent young 
attache whom people, by an effort of mem- 
ory, were able to recall; still less did he 
resemble anything else that the Torr family, 
within recollection, had produced. He took 
a big old house in Russell Square, and in 
time it became understood that very learned 
and intellectual people paid pilgrimages 
thither to sit at the feet of Lady Julius, and 
learn of her. Smart London rarely saw 
this Lady Julius save at a distance — in her 
carriage or at the opera. The impression it 
preserved of her was of a short, swarthy 
woman, increasingly stout as years went on, 
who peered with near-sighted earnestness 
through a large pince-nez of unusual form. 
On her side, it seemed doubtful if she had 
formed even so succinct an impression as 
this of smart London. She was content 
180 


GLORIA MUNDI 


with Bloomsbury to the end of her days; 
and made no effort whatever to establish 
relations with the West End. Indeed, tales 
came to be told of the effectual resistance 
she offered, in later years, to amiable inter- 
ested advances from that quarter. It grew 
to be believed that she had made an eccen- 
tric will, and would leave untold millions to 
Atheist charities. The rumor that she was 
among the most highly cultivated women of 
her time, and that the most illustrious scien- 
tists and thinkers would quit the society of 
kings to travel post-haste across Europe at 
her bidding, did not, it must regretfully be 
added, seem incompatible with this theory 
about a crazy will. Finally, when she died 
in 1885, something was printed by the papers 
about her philanthropy, and much was said 
in private speculation about her disposition 
of her vast fortune, but it did not come out 
that any will whatever was proved, and 
London ceased to think of the matter. 

The outer world had in truth been wrong 
from the beginning. Lady Julius was not a 
deeply learned woman, and the limited circle 
of friends she gathered about her contained 
hardly one distinguished figure, in the 
popular use of the phrase; her opinions 
were not notably advanced or unconven- 
tional ; she did not shun society upon philo- 
181 


GLORIA MUNDI 


sophic principles, but merely because it 
failed to attract a nature at once shy and 
practical ; so far from being rich in her own 
right, she had insisted many years before 
her death upon transferring every penny of 
her fortune to her husband. 

Inside her own household, this dark, stout 
little woman with the eye-glasses was 
revered as a kind of angel. She was plain- 
faced almost to ugliness in the eyes of 
strangers. Her husband and her son never 
doubted that she was beautiful. Now, when 
she had been a memory for ten years and 
more, these two talked of her lovingly and 
with no constraint of gloom, as if she were 
still the pivot round which their daily life 
turned. 

The elder man particularly delighted in 
dwelling upon the details of that earlier 
change in him, under her influence, to 
which allusion has been made. Emanuel 
had in his mind, from boyhood, no vision 
more distinct or familiar than this self- 
painted picture of his father — the idle, 
indifferent, unschooled, paltry-ideaed young 
gentleman of fashion — meeting all unawares 
this overpowering new force, and kneeling 
in awed yet rapturous submission before it. 
To the boy’s imagination it became a histor- 
ical scene, as fixed and well known in its 
182 


GLORIA MUNDI 


lines of composition as that of Nelson’s death 
in the cockpit. He saw his beardless father 
in dandified clothes of the Corn-Laws-carica- 
tnre period, proceeding along the primrose 
path of dalliance, like some flippant new 
Laodicean type of Saul of Tarsus — when 
“suddenly there shined around him a light 
from heaven. ” Lord Julius, indeed, thought 
and spoke of it in much that same spirit. 
The recollection that he had not known who 
Spinoza was tenderly amused him : it was the 
symbol of his vast oceanic ignorance of all 
things worth knowing. 

“Ah, yes,” the son used to say, “but 
if you had not had within yourself all 
the right feelings — only lacking the flash 
to bring them out — you would not have 
seen how wonderful she was. You 
would not have understood at all, but 
just passed on, and nothing would have 
happened. ” 

And the father, smiling in reverie, and 
stroking his great beard, would answer: “I 
don’t see that that follows. I remember 
what I was like quite vividly, and really 
there was nothing in me to explain the 
thing at all. I was a young blood about 
town, positively nothing more. No, Eman- 
uel, we may say what we like, but there are 
things supernatural — that is, beyond what 
183 


GLORIA MUNDI 


we can see, and are prepared for, in nature. 
It was as unaccountable as magic, the effect 
your mother produced upon me from the 
beginning. At the end of a few hours, 
when it was time for me to take my leave, 
and I turned — there was a gulf in front of 
me, cutting me off from where I had been 
before I came to her, that very day. It was 
so wide, it seemed that I could barely see 
across it.” 

To any listener but Emanuel such lan- 
guage must have been extravagant. To him 
there were no words for overpraise of his 
mother. It was not alone that he had never 
seen her in anger or even vexation ; that he 
had never known her to be in error in any 
judgment, or suspected in her an unchari- 
table or unkindly thought. These were mere 
negations, and the memory of her was 
full of positive influences, all wise and pure 
and lofty. Very early in life, when he began 
to look about the world he found himself in, 
he learned to marvel that there were no 
other such women anywhere to be seen. She 
had been so perfect, with seemingly no 
effort to herself! Why should other women 
not even try? 

Emanuel had been born some ten years 
after the marriage of his parents, and they 
thus came into his baby consciousness as 

184 


GLORIA MUNDI 


persons of middle age, in appearance and its 
suggested authority at least, by comparison 
with the parents of other children he saw 
about him. Nowhere else, however, either 
then or in later years, did he see another 
home so filled from center to circumference 
with love, and tender gentleness of eye and 
word and deed. The perception that this 
environment was unique colored all his boy- 
hood. It became a habit with him to set in 
contrast his own charmed existence against 
the unconsidered and uneven experiences of 
other children, and to ponder the meaning of 
the difference. As he grew up, the impor- 
tance of this question expanded in his mind 
and took possession of it. He was con- 
sumed with the longing to make some effect- 
ive protest against the peevish folly with 
which humanity mismanaged its brief in- 
nings of life. From the cradle to the grave 
the race swarmed stupidly along, elbowing 
and jostling in an aimless bustle, hot and ill- 
tempered through exertions which had no 
purpose; trampling down all weaker than 
themselves and cursing those who, in turn, 
had the strength to push them under ; com- 
ing wearily at the end to the gate and the 
outer darkness of extinction, a futile and 
disappointed mob — having seen nothing, 
comprehended nothing, profited nothing. 
185 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The progress of a generation across the span 
of life might be made so serene and well- 
ordered and fruitful an affair! What else 
had man to concern himself about than this 
one thing — that “peace on earth, good will 
to men,” should rule in his time? And how 
was it that this alone, of all possible prob- 
lems, received from him no attention at 
all? 

The impulse toward a mission was dis- 
cernible in the lad ; it altogether dominated 
the young man. His parents, regarding 
him lovingly and yet with wise inquiry, were 
fascinated by what they saw. A sense of 
lofty responsibility in their trusteeship for 
this beneficent new force formed a fresh 
bond between them, which grew to absorb 
within itself all their other ties. They came 
to regard themselves in no other light 
than as the parents of Emanuel. To pre- 
serve him from vitiating and stunting 
suggestions; richly to nourish, yet with 
an anxious avoidance of surfeit, both the 
soul and the mind within him ; to give him 
strength and means and single-hearted 
courage adequate to the task he yearned 
to undertake — they asked nothing better of 
life than this. 

After Oxford, he went abroad for a couple 
of years, having as a companion a young 
186 


GLORIA MUNDI 

Fellow of Swithin’s, a trifle older than him- 
self, who shared his moral attitude if not his 
passionate aspirations. He saw many parts 
of the world, and scrutinized closely in each 
the working of those portions of the social 
mechanism which interested him. Return- 
ing with a mass of notes and a mind packed 
with impressions and theories, he set to 
work to write a big book. At the end of a 
year he produced instead a small volume, 
dealing with one little phase of the huge, 
complex theme he had at heart. It was a 
treatise on the relations between parents 
and children, and it received very favorable 
reviews indeed. University men felt that it 
was what they had had the foresight to 
expect from this serious and high-minded 
young fellow, who was lucky enough to 
have the means and leisure for ethical essay- 
writing. Evidently he was going in for that 
sort of thing, and they noted with approba- 
tion that he had been at great pains with his 
style. Much to Emanuel’s surprise, only 
some three hundred copies of the work were 
sold ; upon reflection, he saw that it was no 
part of his plan to sell books, and he forth- 
with distributed the remainder of the edition, 
and another edition as well, among the 
libraries of the Three Kingdoms. Within 
the next three years two other brochures 
187 


GLORIA MUNDI 


went through much the same experiences. 
They treated respectively of primary educa- 
tion and of public amusements. Again the 
reviews were extremely cordial; again the 
men who had always predicted that Torr 
would do something regarded their pro- 
phetic intuition with refreshed complacency ; 
again Emanuel drew considerable checks in 
favor of his publisher. What had been 
hinted at rather vaguely heretofore was 
now, however, announced with confidence 
in “literary” columns: these small volumes 
were merely chapters of a vast and compre- 
hensive work to which the author had 
dedicated his life — the laborious exposition 
of a whole new philosophy of existence, to be 
as complete in its way as Herbert Spencer’s 
noble survey of mankind. 

Not long after came the death of Eman- 
uel’s mother — an unlooked-for event which 
altered everything in the world to the 
bereaved couple left behind. They went 
away together in the following month, with 
a plan of a prolonged tour in the Orient, but 
came back to England after a few weeks’ 
absence, having found their proposed dis- 
traction intolerable. Lord Julius promptly 
invented for his own relief the device of tak- 
ing over upon himself the drudgery of caring 
for his millions, which heretofore had been 
1 88 


GLORIA MUNDI 


divided among a banker, a broker, a solicitor 
and two secretaries. Emanuel saw his way 
less directly, but at last he found the will to 
begin a tentative experiment with some of 
his theories of life on a Somersetshire farm 
which his father gave him. The work 
speedily engrossed him, and expanded under 
his hands. He became conscious of growth 
within himself as well. The conviction that 
life is a thing not to be written about, but to 
be lived, formulated itself in his mind, and 
he elaborated this new view in an argument 
which persuaded his father. The Somerset- 
shire estates of the family, which had been 
bought by Lord Julius in 1859, when the 
duke and his son Porlock joined to set aside 
the entail, were placed now unreservedly at 
Emanuel’s disposal. What he did with them 
is to be seen later on. 

At the moment, it was of the first impor- 
tance that he should decide for himself the 
great question of celibacy v. marriage. The 
far-reaching projects which possessed his 
brain would, beyond doubt, be multiplied 
infinitely in value if precisely the right 
woman were brought in to share his enthu- 
siasm and devotion. It was no whit less 
clear that they would dwindle into failure 
and collapse under the blight of the wrong 
woman. The dimensions of the risk so 
189 


GLORIA MUNDI 


impressed him, as he studied them, that for 
more than two years he believed himself to 
be irrevocably committed to the cold middle 
course of bachelorhood. 

Then, by a remarkable stroke of good 
fortune, he met, fell in love with and married 
the sister of Lord Rosbrin, a young Irish 
peer whom he had known at Oxford. No 
one has ever doubted, he least of all, that she 
was the right woman. 

He wrote no more books, in the years fol- 
lowing this event, but gradually he became 
the cause of writing in others. A review 
article upon the character and aims of his 
experiment in Somersetshire, written in an 
appreciative spirit by an economist of posi- 
tion, attracted so much attention that the 
intrusion of curious strangers and inquisitive 
reporters threatened to be a nuisance. After 
this, his name was always mentioned as that 
of an authority, when sociological problems 
were discussed. There was even a certain 
flurry of inquiry for his books, though this 
did not turn out to have warranted the print- 
ing of the new popular edition. Sundry 
precepts in them became, however, the stock 
phrases of leader-writers. People of culture 
grew convinced that they were familiar with 
his works, and only a few months before the 
period at which we meet him. his university 
190 


\ 

GLORIA MUNDI 

had conferred upon him an honorary D.C.L., 
which gratified him more deeply than any 
other recognition his labors and attainments 
had ever received. 


191 


V* 






CHAPTER X 


Christian, observing his celebrated cousin 
by daylight for the first time, perceived the 
necessity of revising some of the previous 
night’s impressions. 

Under the illumination of the shaded lamp 
and the glowing bank of peat on the study 
hearth, Emanuel in his velvet jacket and 
slippered ease had seemed a delicately 
refined creature, of so ethereal a type that 
life for it outside the atmosphere of books, 
and of a library's thought and talk, would be 
unnatural, or even impossible. With his 
back to the afternoon sunshine, however, 
and with rough, light clothes suggesting 
fresh-air exercise, Emanuel was a different 
person. 

In stature he was a trifle taller than Chris- 
tian ; perhaps he was also something heavier, 
but what the newcomer noted most about 
the figure was the wiry vigor of muscular 
energy indicated in all its lines and move- 
ments. There was apparent no trace of any 
physical resemblance to his father, the 
massive Lord Julius, and Christian, as this 
193 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fact occurred to him, remembered what he 
had heard about the race from which the 
mother had come. He could not say that 
Emanuel’s face was like anything which he 
had thought of as distinctively Jewish. The 
forehead was both broad and prominent, and 
at the top, where early baldness exposed the 
conformation of the skull, there were curious 
sutural irregularities of surface which at- 
tracted attention. The rest of the face was 
indefinably distinguished in effect, but not 
so remarkable. Christian thought now that 
it was a more virile countenance than he 
had imagined it to be. Vague suggestions 
of the scholarly dreamer flitted through its 
expressions now and again, but it was still 
above all things the face of a man of action. 

Christian had said to himself, in that 
crowded instant of analysis, that he had 
never seen any Jewish face which at all 
resembled this of his cousin’s. Yet some- 
where he had seen a face so like it! — the 
memory puzzled and absorbed his mind. 
The same crisping, silky black-brown hair; 
the same full line of brow and nose; the 
same wide-open dark eyes, intently compre- 
hending in their steady gaze — how strangely 
familiar they were to him! He saw them 
again in his mind’s eye, and they had the 
same shadow-casting background of sun- 


194 


GLORIA MUNDI 


light — only as he looked at the mental 
picture, this sunlight was fiercer and hotter, 
and there was a golden, hazy distance of 
purple-blue sea. Suddenly he laughed aloud, 
and his brain was alive with recollections. 

“I never recognized you last night,” he 
declared.- “Is it not strange that I should 
have been so blind? But seeing you in the 
sunlight — ah, I remember you well enough. ’ ’ 

Emanuel -smiled too, a little awkwardly. 
“Of course I was not making any secret of 
it,” he said. “It would have come up 
naturally, sooner or later, in the course of 
talk. ” 

But Christian had turned to the lady, and 
was speaking with gay animation. “He it 
is whom I have so often thought of, for 
years now, as the ‘mysterious stranger’ of 
my poor little romance. How long is it ago? 
Oh, ten years perhaps, since I saw him first. 
It was at Toulon, and I was walking along 
the quai in the late afternoon, and he stopped 
me to ask some question, and we fell to 
walking together and talking — at first about 
the old town, then of myself, because he 
wished it so. A long time passed, and lo ! I 
saw him again. This time he came into 
Salvator’s little shop at Cannes — it was in 
Ihe Rue d’Oran — and I was alone, and we 
talked again — it seems to me for more than 
195 


GLORIA MUNDI 


an hour. And I wondered always who he 
could be — because he made me feel that he 
had friendly thoughts about me. And then, 
once more — it was a year ago last summer — 
he met me again, and came and sat beside 
me on a seat in the Jardin Public, at Nice. 
It must have been in June, for the season 
was ended, and it surprised me that he 
should be there. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, I know all about it,” put in 
Kathleen. “He told me of his seeing you, 
and what he thought of you, almost as soon 
as your back was turned. But at that time, 
of course — things hadn’t happened.” 

“Ah, but he wanted to be kind to me, 
even then,” the young man broke forth, 
with a glow in his eyes. “I felt that in his 
tone, the very first time, when I was the 
young boy at school. Oh, I puzzled my 
brain very often about this young English 
gentleman who liked to talk to me. And 
here is a curious thing, that when the Credit 
Lyonnais gave me my summons to come to 
England, it was of him that I thought first 
of all, and wondered if he had not some part 
in it. And then I was so dull — I come to 
his own house, and sit at his own table with 
him as my cousin, and do not know him at 
all ! It is true that he had no beard then — 
but none the less I am ashamed.” He 
196 


GLORIA MUNDI 


spread his hands out and smiled a deprecatory 
gesture at them both as he added: “But 
then everything has been upside down in 
my mind since I came to England. It has 
been as if I were going up the side of a 
straight cliff in a funicular railway — my 
heart throbbing in terror, my brain whirl- 
ing — afraid to look down, or out, or to 
realize where I was. But to-day I am 
happily at the end of the journey, and the 
good safe ground is well under my feet — and 
so I am not confused any more, but only 
very, very glad. ’ ’ 

The elder couple exchanged a frankly 
delighted smile over the enthusiast’s head. 
“You take him for a stroll about the place,” 
said the wife. “Perhaps I will come and 
find you, later on. ’ * 

In obedience to the suggestion, the two 
men turned, and went off together across 
the lawn. 

Emanuel began speaking at once. “My 
father,” he said, “has given me a rough 
outline of what you have seen and heard. 
In the nature of things, it could not all be 
pleasant. V 

“Oh, I have quite forgotten the unhappy 
parts,” the young man declared. “I re- 
solved to do that ; it would be folly to 
remember them. ’ ’ 


197 


GLORIA MUNDI 

“They have their uses, though,” persisted 
the other. “I wanted you to start out with 
just that impression of the family’s seamy 
side. We have an immense deal to make up 
to the people about us, and to humanity in 
general, have we Torrs. It seemed to me 
that you could not realize this too early in 
your experience here. What impressions 
did Caermere itself make upon you?” 

Christian hesitated a little, to give form to 
his thoughts. “I am imagining it in my 
mind,” he said at last, slowly, and with 
extended hands to shape his meaning to the 
eye, “as a huge canvas, one of the very 
biggest. As it happens, there is an un- 
pleasant picture on it now, but that can be 
wiped out, covered over, and then on the 
vast blank surface a new and splendid picture 
may be painted — if I have the skill to do 
it.” He paused, as his companion nodded 
comprehension of the figure, and then added 
abruptly: “I have not put the question 
direct before — but it is really the case that 
I am to succeed my grandfather — to be duke 
of Glastonbury, is it not?” 

“Yes,” answered Emanuel, gravely. 
“That is the case. ” 

“Lord Julius told me to ask you every- 
thing,” Christian went on. in defense of 
his curiosity. “But, grand Dieu! there is 

198 


GLORIA MUNDI 


so much to ask! Shall I be a rich man, also? 
There are dukes in France who can scarcely 
give a dinner to a friend — and in Italy who 
are often in doubt about even their own 
dinners. I understand that English dukes 
are different — but it has been said to me 
that my grandfather, for example, is not a 
rich man. He would be rich, no doubt, in 
some other station, but as a duke he is poor. 
Shall I also be poor?” 

Emanuel smiled, more, it seemed, to him- 
self than for the benefit of the young man. 
With amusing deliberation he took from his 
pocket a little oblong book with flexible 
covers. “Have you ever owned a check- 
book?” he asked drily. 

Christian shook his head. 

“Well, this is yours. It came from Lon- 
don this morning. I have written here on 
the back of the first check, on the part that 
remains in the book, these figures. They 
show what the bank holds at your disposal 
at the present moment. ’ ’ 

Christian took the book, and stared with 
awe at the figures indicated. “Three thou- 
sand pounds! That is to say, seventy-five 
thousand francs ! But — I do not understand. 
What portion is this of my entire fortune? 
There is more besides — to come at some 
future period — n’est ce pas?” 


199 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The sum itself had seemed at first glance 
to be of bewildering dimensions. Soberer 
second thoughts, however, told him that he 
had. been lifted into a social stratum where 
such an amount might easily come and go a 
number of times during one’s life. 

“Well,” Emanuel began, hesitating in turn 
over his phrases, “strictly speaking, you 
have no fortune at all. This money has 
been placed to your credit by my father — 
or if you like, by us both — to put you in a 
position of independence for the time being. 
You are quite free to spend it as you like. 
But — this is a somewhat delicate matter to 
explain — but we look to you in turn to be 
more or less guided by us in, say, your mode 
of life, your choice of associates and — and so 
on. Don’t think that we wish in the least 
to hamper your individual freedom. I am 
sure you will feel that that is not our way. 
But we have formed very high hopes indeed 
for your career and — how shall I make you 
understand? — it rests a good deal with us to 
say how far the realization of these hopes 
warrants us in going on. That isn’t plain 
to you, I see. Well, to put it frankly, you 
have nothing of your own, but we turn our 
money over to you because we believe in 
you. If unhappily — let us suppose the very 
improbable case — we should find ourselves no 


200 


GLORIA MUNDI 


longer believing in you, why then we should 
feel free to reconsider our financial responsi- 
bilities towards you. That is stating it very 
baldly — not at all as I should like to have 
put it — but it gives you the essence of the 
situation. ’ ’ 

They had paused, and Christian regarded 
him with a troubled face. ‘ ‘ Then if you come 
not to like me, or if I make mistakes, you 
take everything away from me again? I 
have never heard of a system like that. It 
seems to place me in a very strange position. ” 

The youth’s mobile countenance expressed 
such wistful dejection, as he faltered out 
these words, that Emanuel hastened to 
reassure him. 

“No, no,” he urged, putting a brotherly 
hand on his shoulder, “it is the fault entirely 
of the way I explained it. No one will ever 
take anything away from you. In all human 
probability you will live and die a wealthy 
and powerful nobleman — and perhaps some- 
thing a good deal more than that. But let 
me show you the situation in another way. 
You have seen your grandfather — so I need 
say little about him. When he had reached 
the age of fifty or thereabouts he had come 
to the end of his resources. Since the 
estates were entailed, nothing could be sold 
or mortgaged, and debts of all sorts were 


201 


GLORIA MUNDI 


crowding in upon him and his eldest son. 
Lord Porlock. They were 3t their wits’ 
end to keep going at all ; Pcrlock could not 
hold his head up in London, much less 
marry, as he was expected to do. If it had 
not been for the invention of life insurance, 
they could hardly have found money to live 
from week to week. That was in 1858 or ’9, 
when I was two or three years old. It was 
then that my father adopted his policy 
toward the older branch of the family. As 
you perhaps know, he was a very rich man. 
He came forward at this juncture, and saved 
the duke and his household from ruin.” 

“That was very noble of him. It is what 
I should have thought he would do, ’ ’ inter- 
posed Christian. They had begun walking 
again. 

“Oh, I don’t know that noble is quite the 
word,” said Emanuel. “The element of 
generosity was not very conspicuous in the 
transaction. The truth is that the duke and 
his son were not people that one could be 
generous to. They had to be bound to a 
hard-and-fast bargain. They agreed be- 
tween them to break the entail, so that all 
the estates could be dealt with as was 
deemed best, and bound themselves to sell 
or mortgage nothing except to my father, 
unless with his consent. He on his side 


202 


GLORIA MUNDI 


settled seventy thousand pounds on Porlock 
and his heirs, thus enabling him to marry, 
and he not only purchased from the duke the 
Somerset properties, of which this is a part, 
but he bought up his debts at the sacrifice 
of a good many thousands of pounds, so that 
in practice he became his brother’s only 
creditor. No doubt there was generosity 
in that — since he cut down the rate of interest 
to something almost nominal by comparison 
with the usury that had been going on — but 
his motive was practical enough. It was to 
get complete financial mastery of the family 
estates. Nearly forty years have passed 
since he began; to-day he holds mortgages 
on practically every acre. If it were not 
for the mine near Coalbrook, which latterly 
yields the duke a certain surplus over the 
outlay at Caermere, my father would prob- 
ably own it all outright. Well, you have 
followed it so far, haven’t you?” 

Christian thoughtfully nodded his head. 
“These are not affairs that I have been 
brought up to understand, ’ ’ he commented, 
“but I think I comprehend. Only this — 
you speak of your father’s adopted policy; 
that means he has a purpose — an aim. The 
lady at the castle — Lady Cressage — spoke to 
me about this, and I wish — ” 

“Ah, yes, you met her,” interposed 
203 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Emanuel. “I am not sure she was the best 
fitted to expound our policy to you.” 

4 4 Oh, she was very sympathetic, ’ ’ the young 
man hastened to insist. “She had the 
warmest praises for both you and your 
father. And I could not but feel she wished 
me well, too.” 

Emanuel made no immediate reply, but 
walked slowly along, revolving silent 
thoughts, with a far-away, deliberative look 
in his eyes. When he spoke at last, it was 
to revert with abruptness to the earlier topic. 
“The policy, as we are calling it,” he said, 
“can be put in a nutshell. We take that 
kind of pride in the family which impels us 
to resolve that, if we cannot induce it to do 
great things, we will at least prevent it 
doing base things. The position which your 
grandfather inherited was one of remarkable 
opportunities, and also of exceptional respon- 
sibilities. He was unfit to do anything with 
the opportunities, and as for the responsi- 
bilities, he regarded them with only ignorant 
contempt. His immediate heirs were very 
little better. It became a problem with us, 
therefore, how best to limit their power for 
harm. Money was the one force they could 
understand and respect, and we have used 
it accordingly. I say 4 we’ because as the 
situation has gradually developed itself, it 
204 


GLORIA MUNDI 


is hard to say which part of it is my father’s 
and which mine — and still more impossible to 
imagine what either of us would have done 
independently of my mother. I will tell you 
more about her sometime. It was she, of 
course, who brought the money to us, but 
she brought much else besides. However, 
we will not enter upon that at the moment. 
Well, suddenly, last summer, the deaths 
changed everything. Up to that time, what 
we had been doing had had, so to speak, 
only a negative purpose. W e had been keep- 
ing unfit people from parading their unfit- 
ness in too scandalously public a fashion. 
But all at once the possibility of doing some- 
thing positive — something which might be 
very fine indeed — was opened up before us. 
As you know now, we were aware of your 
existence, but there were inquiries to be 
made as to — well, as to the formal validity 
of your claim. After that, there was some 
slight delay in tracing your whereabouts — 
but now you are here, at last.” 

“Now I am here, at last!” Christian 
repeated softly. He looked up into the sky ; 
somewhere from the blue an invisible lark 
filled the air with its bubbling song. He 
drew a long breath of amazed content, then 
turned to his companion. 

“That men like you and your father should 
205 


GLORIA MUNDI 


be making plans and sacrifices for one like 
myself,” he said — ‘‘it is hard for me to 
realize it. There is nothing for me to say 
but this — that I will spare no thought or 
labor to be what you want me to be. And 
you will make it all clear to me, will you 
not? in every detail what it is I am to do?” 

“Oh, hardly to that length,” said Eman- 
uel. He smiled once more — that grave, 
sweet, introspective smile of his, which sug- 
gested humor as little as it did flippancy — 
and spoke more freely, as if conscious that 
the irksome part of his task lay behind him. 
“We dream a great dream of you, but it 
would be folly to attempt to dictate to you 
at every stage of its realization. That 
would do you more harm than good, and it 
would be unfair to both parties, into the 
bargain. No, what I desire is to show you 
the practical workings of a system, and to 
fill you with the principles and spirit of that 
system. I think it will interest you deeply, 
and I hope you will see your way to making 
it, in its essentials at least, your own. It 
has taken me many years to build it up, and 
I can’t pretend to suppose that you will 
grasp it in a week or a year. But you will see 
at least the aim I have in view, and you will 
get a notion of how I progress toward it. I 
shall be satisfied, for the time being, merely 
206 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to commend it to your judgment as the aim 
which you might do well to set before you. — 
It occurs to me to ask you : have you decided 
opinions in politics?” 

Christian shrugged his shoulders diffi- 
dently. “In France my friends were of 
many parties, but since I thought never of 
myself as a Frenchman, I did not take sides 
with any of them. My brother Salvator is 
very advanced indeed ; he is a Free Mason, 
and his friends are Carbonari in Italy and 
Socialists in France. But to me, these 
things had not much meaning. I said 
always to myself that I was English, and I 
read journals from London when I could, to 
learn about English parties. But it was not 
easy to learn. I stood in the streets often 
at Cannes in the early spring to see Mr. 
Gladstone when he passed, and to take off 
my hat to him, because I read that he was 
the greatest Englishman. But then I talked 
with English people on the Riviera about 
him, and they all cursed and ridiculed him, 
and told me that in England no respectable 
people would so much as speak to him. 
So it is very hard to know the truth — when 
you are born and bred in another country. ’ * 

“Even those who are born here do not 
invariably agree upon definitions of the 
truth,” commented Emanuel. “But I was 


207 


GLORIA MUNDI 


not speaking of parties or politicians, so 
called. Politics, in its bigger sense, means 
the housekeeping of humanity — the whole 
mass of interests that the individuals of the 
human race have in common. But I don’t 
want to generalize to you. Let us stop here 
for a few minutes ; I have brought you to 
this point that you may get the view.” 

Their leisurely stroll through pastures and 
meadows, and latterly across a strip of 
grassy common dotted with sheep, had 
brought them by a gradual ascent to the 
summit of a knoll, crowned by a group of 
picturesquely gnarled and twisted old trees, 
the boughs of which were all pointed back- 
ward in the direction whence the men had 
come. Christian, coming to the ridge and 
halting, confronted the unexpected breeze, 
steady and sustained as an ocean swell, 
which he could hear murmuring through 
the land- ward bent branches overhead. In 
front of him, at the distance of a stone’s 
throw, the sloping heath abruptly ended 
in what for the instant he supposed was the 
sky-line — and then saw to be a vast glitter- 
ing expanse of water, stretching off to an 
illimitable horizon. 

“Oh, the sea!” he cried out, in surprised 
delight. “I had never dreamed that we 
were near it.” 


208 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He could distinguish now the faint inter- 
mittent rustle of the waves on the hidden 
beach far below. Perhaps a mile out the 
profile of a craft under full sail shone 
magically white in the sunlight. He knew 
it to be a yacht, and began watching it with 
an intuitive appreciation of its beauty of 
line and carriage. Then in a sudden impulse 
he swung around and faced his companion. 
“I do not like to look at it,” he broke out 
nervously. “I am afraid to see the ghosts 
of those cousins who were drowned — killed 
to make room for me. Where their yacht 
went down on the rocks — was that close by 
here?” 

“At least sixty miles away — in that direc- 
tion,” and Emanuel gave an indifferent nod 
towards the west. “I wouldn't encourage 
ghosts of any sort, if I were you, but theirs 
would be least of all worth while. I wanted 
you to look about you from here — not 
specially seaward, but in all directions. 
There is a small village at the water's edge, 
almost directly under our feet, which can’t 
be seen from above — we will get round to 
it, perhaps to-morrow — but look in other 
directions. As far as you can see along the 
coast to right and left — and inland, too — the 
system I spoke of is in operation. It is all 
my land. Get the scope of it into your mind. 


209 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Roughly speaking, you can see over some 
nine or ten thousand acres. Imagine that 
multiplied by seven or eight, and you will 
have, an idea of the territory that your grand- 
father still owns — at least nominally. ’ ’ 

Christian kept a rapt gaze upon the pros- 
pect, and strove in silence to grasp the mean- 
ing of the words. 

4 ‘On the land that you see before you,” 
Emanuel went on, “in one capacity or 
another, nearly two thousand human beings 
have homes. On your grandfather’s estates 
there must be nearly if not quite ten times 
that number. Think what this means. You 
will be in a position to affect the prosperity, 
the happiness, the well-being, body and soul, 
of fifteen or twenty thousand people. It is a 
little nation — a small kingdom — of which 
you will be the head. ’ * 

The young man turned slowly and forced 
himself to look out upon the deep, but still 
said nothing. 

“This position you may make much of, or 
little, or worse than nothing at all,” the 
other continued. “It is a simple enough 
matter to put the work and the responsi- 
bility upon other shoulders, if you choose to 
do it. Many very respectable men born to 
such positions do wash their hands of the 
worry and labor in just that fashion. They 


210 


GLORIA MUNDI 


lead idle lives, they amuse themselves, they 
take all that js yielded to them and give 
nothing in return — and because they avoid 
open grossness and scandal their behavior 
attracts no particular attention. In fact, it 
is quite taken for granted that they have 
done the natural thing. Being born to 
leisure, why should they toil? Possessing 
the title to wealth and dominion and the 
deference of those about ^hem, why should 
they be expected to go to work and earn 
these things which they already own? That 
is the public view. Mine is very different. 
I hold that a man who has been born to a 
position of power among his fellows, and 
neglects the duties of that position while he 
accepts its rewards, is disgraced. It is as 
dishonest as any action for which less for- 
tunate persons go to prison.” 

“Yes, that is my feeling, also, ” said Chris- 
tian in low, earnest tones. “It’s all true — 
but — ’ ’ 

“Ah, yes, the ‘But,’” commented Eman- 
uel, with his perceptive smile. “Now let me 
explain to you that I have met this ‘But,’ 
and done battle with it, and put it under my 
feet. I began planning for this struggle 
when I was very young. All the good 
people I knew admitted frankly the evils I 
speak of; they saw them quite clearly, and 


211 


GLORIA MUNDI 


talked with eloquence and fine feeling about 
them, and at the finish they said ‘But!’ — 
and changed the subject, and everything 
went on as before. It became apparent to 
me that this eternal ‘But’ is the enemy of 
the human race. There it stood forever in 
the path, blocking every attempt of benev- 
olent and right-minded people to advance 
in real progress. So I said: at least one 
life shall be given to the task of proving 
that there need be no ‘But.’ I have been 
working here now for years, upon lines 
which were carefully thought out during 
other years of preparation. The results 
are in most respects better than I could have 
expected ; they are certainly many-fold better 
than any one who had not my faith could have 
believed possible. Sundry limitations in the 
system I have, no doubt, discovered. Some 
things which seemed axiomatic on paper do 
not work themselves out the same way in 
practice — but as a whole the system is recog- 
nized now as having justified itself. There 
was an article in the ‘Fortnightly’ on it last 
November which I will give you to read. 
I have written some chapters upon certain 
phases of it, myself, which you might also 
look at. But the principal thing is that you 
should see the system itself in full opera- 
tion.” 


212 


GLORIA MUNDI 


c 4 1 am eager to begin, ’ ’ declared the young 
man, with fervor. 

They had turned by tacit consent, and 
were sauntering back again over the short, 
soft grass of the heath. 

Emanuel paused and picked from a furze- 
bush a belated spray of bright yellow blos- 
soms. As he continued his walk, he pulled 
one of these flowers to pieces, and atten- 
tively examined the fragments. 

“I gather that you are much interested in 
flowers,” said Christian, to make conversa- 
tion. 

The other laughed briefly, as he threw the 
stuff aside, then sighed a little. “Too much 
so,” he answered. “I wish I had the cour- 
age to give it up altogether. It murders my 
work. I spend sometimes whole hours in 
my greenhouses when I ought to be doing 
other things. The worst of it is that I 
realize perfectly the criminal waste of time — 
and still I persist in it. There is some- 
thing quite mysterious in plants — especially 
if you have grown them yourself. You can 
go and stand among them by the hour, and 
look from one to another, with your mind 
entirely closed to thoughts of any descrip- 
tion. I used to assume that this mental rest 
had a recuperative value, but as I get older 
I suspect that it is a kind of lethargy instead 


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GLORIA MUNDI 


— a mere blankness that can grow upon 
one. I find myself, for example, going in- 
cessantly to see certain pans of my own 
hybridized seedlings — and staring aimlessly 
at them till I get quite empty-headed. Now, 

I am too busy a man to be able to afford 
that.” 

* ‘ But if you get pleasure from it, ’ ’ expostu- 
lated Christian, gently. 

“We have no right to think of our pleas- 
ure,” Emanuel asserted with decision, 

* ‘while any duty remains unperformed. And 
rightly considered, duty is pleasure, the very 
highest and noblest pleasure. The trouble 
is that even while our minds quite recognize 
this, our senses play us tricks. For example, 
when I saw how much time I was wasting 
on flowers, I tried to turn the impulse into 
a useful channel. The blossoms of fruit 
trees, for instance ; the growth and flower- 
ing and seeding processes of melons and 
broad-beans and potatoes and so on, are just 
as interesting and worthy of study, and they 
mean value to humanity into the bargain. 
So I said I would concentrate my atten- 
tion upon them, instead — but there was 
some perverse element in me somewhere; 
I couldn’t do it. The mere knowledge that 
these excellent vegetables were of practical 
utility threw me off altogether. They bored 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


me — so I went shamefacedly back to the 
roses and fuchsias and dahlias.” 

“They have wonderful dahlias at Caer- 
mere,” interposed Christian. “I walked 
for a long time among them with Lady 
Cressage, and she told me all their names. 
Poor lady, she is very sad, in spite of the 
flowers. I — I think I should like to say it to 
you — I find myself very sorry for her. 
And — such a bewildering number of things 
are to be done for me — is there not some- 
thing that can be done for her?” 

Emanuel walked slowly on in silence for 
some moments, regarding his companion’s 
profile out of the corner of his eye, his own 
face showing signs of preoccupation mean- 
time. When at last he spoke, the question 
seemed to have lost itself in convolution of 
his thoughts. 

“Considering their northern exposure,” 
he said meditatively, “they grow an extra- 
ordinary amount of fruit at Caermere. ’ ’ 


215 






CHAPTER XI 


At the end of a fortnight Christian found 
himself able to confront the system, and 
even look it in the face, with a certain degree 
of mental composure. He was far from 
imagining that he had comprehended it all, 
but the thought of it no longer made his 
brain whirl by the magnitude of its scope, 
or frightened him by its daring. The impli- 
cation that he was expected to do still more 
with it than Emanuel, its inventor and 
evangel, had done, possessed its terrors, no 
doubt, but one is not young for nothing. 
The buoyancy of youth, expanding genially 
amid these delightful surroundings, thrust 
these shadows off into the indefinite future, 
whenever they approached. 

This system need not detain us long, or 
unnerve us at all. Lord Julius had spoken 
figuratively of it as the Pursuit of Happiness ; 
perhaps that remains its best definition. 

Like other systems, it was capable of 
explanation by means of formulas ; but the 
most lucid and painstaking presentation of 
these could not hope to convey complete 
217 


GLORIA MUNDI 


meaning to the mind. Stated in words, 
Emanuel’s plan hardly appealed to the 
imagination. Save for a few innovations, 
not of primary importance, it proceeded by 
arguments entirely familiar to everybody, 
and which indeed none disputes. Most of 
its propositions were the commonplaces of 
human speech and thought. The value of 
purity, of cheerfulness, of loyalty, of 
mercy — this is not gainsaid by any one. The 
conception of duty as the mainspring of 
human action is very old indeed. For this 
reason, doubtless, Emanuel’s efforts to 
expound his System by means of books had 
failed to rivet public attention. He could 
only insist afresh upon what was universally 
conceded, and Mr. Tupper before him had 
done enough of this to last several genera- 
tions. 

Viewed in operation, however, the System 
was another matter. Our immemorial plat- 
itudes, once clothed in flesh and blood, 
informed with life, and set in motion under 
the sympathetic control of a master mind, 
became unrecognizable. 

Emanuel as a lad had thought much of the 
fact that he was of the blood of the 
Spinozas. When he learned Latin in his 
early boyhood, the task was sweetened and 
ennobled to his mind by the knowledge that 
218 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it would bring him into communion with the 
actual words of the great man, his kinsman. 
Later, when he approached with veneration 
the study of these words, the discovery that 
they meant little or nothing to him was 
almost crushing in its effects. Eventually 
it dawned upon his brain that the philos- 
opher’s abstractions and speculations were 
as froth on the top of the water; the great 
fact was the man himself — the serene, lofty, 
beautiful character which shines out at us 
from its squalid setting like a flawless gem. 
To be like Spinoza, but to give his mind to 
the real rather than the unreal, shaped itself 
as the goal of his ambitions. 

It was at this period that he became 
impressed by the thought that he was also 
of the blood of the Torrs. On the one side 
the poor lens-grinder with the soul of an 
archangel; on the other the line of dull- 
browed, heavy-handed dukes, with a soul of 
any sort discoverable among them nowhere. 
Slowly the significance of the conjunction 
revealed itself to him. To take up the long- 
neglected burden of responsibilities and pos- 
sibilities of the Torrs, with the courage and 
pure spirit of a Spinoza — there lay the duty 
of his life, plainly marked before him. 

Ensuing years of reading, travel and 
reflection gave him the frame, so to speak, 


219 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in which to put this picture. He had from 
his childhood been greatly attracted by the 
glimpses which his father’s library gave 
him of what is called the Mediaeval period. 
As he grew older, this taste became a pas- 
sion. Where predilection ended and persua- 
sion began, it would be hard to say, but 
when he had arrived at man’s estate, and 
stood upon the threshold of his life-work, it 
was with the deeply rooted conviction that 
the feudal stage had offered mankind its 
greatest opportunities for happiness and the 
higher life. That the opportunities had 
been misunderstood, wasted, thrown away, 
proved nothing against the soundness of 
his theory. He had masses of statistics as 
to wages, rent-rolls, endowments and the 
like at his fingers’ ends, to show that even 
on its reverse side, the medieval shield was 
not so black as it was painted. As for the 
other side — it was the age of the cathedrals, 
of the Book of Kells, of the great mendicant 
orders, of the saintly and knightly ideals. 
It was in its flowering time that craftsman- 
ship attained its highest point, and the 
great artisan guilds, proud of their talents 
and afraid of nothing but the reproach of 
work ill-done, gave the world its magnifi- 
cent possessions among the applied arts. 
Sovereigns and princes vied with one another 


220 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to do honor to the noblest forms of art, 
and*to bow to the intellect of an Erasmus, 
who had not even the name of a father 
to bear. Class caste was the rule of the 
earth, yet the son of a peasant like Luther 
could force himself to the top, and compel 
emperors to listen to him, more readily 
then than now. The bishop-princes of 
feudal England were as often as not the sons 
of swineherds or starveling clerks, whereas 
now no such thing could conceivably happen 
to the hierarchy. Above all things, it was 
the age of human character. Men like 
Thomas More, with their bewildering circle 
of attainments and their extraordinary indi- 
vidual force, were familiar products. In a 
thousand other directions, Emanuel saw 
convincing proofs that mankind then and 
there had come closest to the possibilities 
of a golden age. True, it had wandered 
off miserably again, into all manner of 
blind lanes and morasses, until it floun- 
dered now in a veritable Dismal Swamp of 
individualism, menaced on the one side by 
the millionaire slave-hunter, on the other 
by the spectral anarchist, and still the 
fools in its ranks cried out ceaselessly for 
further progress. Oh, blind leaders of the 
blind ! 

No. Emanuel saw clearly that humanity 


221 


GLORIA MUNDI 


could right itself by retracing its steps, and 
going back to the scene of its mistaken choice 
of roads. It had taken the wrong turning 
when it forsook the path of coherent and 
interdependent organization — that marvel- 
ously intricate yet perfectly logical system 
called feudalism, in which everybody from 
king to serf had service to render and service 
to receive, and mutual duty was the law of 
the entire mechanism. 

Though Christian heard much more than 
this, enough has been said to indicate the 
spirit in which Emanuel had embarked upon 
the realization of his plan. The results, as 
Christian wonderingly observed them, were 
remarkable. 

The estate over which the System reigned 
was compact in shape, and enjoyed the ad- 
vantage of natural boundaries, either of waste 
moorland or estuaries, which shut it off 
from the outside world, and simplified the 
problem of developing its individual char- 
acter. In area it comprised nearly fifteen 
square miles, and upon it, as has been said, 
lived some two thousand people. About 
half of these were employed in, or dependent 
upon, the industrial occupations Emanuel 
had introduced; the others were more 
directly connected with the soil. Whether 
artisans or farmers, however, they lived 


222 


GLORIA MUNDI 


almost without exception in some one of the 
six little villages on the property. 

In each of these hamlets there were con- 
served one or more old timbered houses ; the 
newer cottages had been built, not in servile 
imitation of these, but after equally old 
models, no two quite alike. As the “Fort- 
nightly Review” article said, if the System 
had done nothing else it had “gathered for 
the instruction and delight of the intelligent 
observer almost a complete collection of 
examples of early English domestic architec- 
ture of the humbler sort.” The numerous 
roads upon the estate were kept in perfect 
order, and were for the most part lined with 
trees; where they passed through the vil- 
lages they were of great width, with broad 
expanses of turf, shaded by big oaks or elms, 
some of which had been moved from other 
spots only a few years before, to the admir- 
ing surprise of the neighborhood. Each 
village had a small church edifice of its own, 
quaintly towered and beautiful in form, and 
either possessing or simulating skillfully the 
graces of antiquity as well. Beside the 
church was a building presenting some one 
or another type of the tolsey-house of old 
English towns, devoted to the communal uses 
of the villagers. About the church and the 
tolsey was the public garden and common, 


223 


GLORIA MUNDI 


with a playground with swings and hars for 
the children at the back — and there was no 
grave or tombstone in sight anywhere. A 
hospitable, ivy-clad, low-gabled inn, with 
its long side to the street, was a conspicuous 
feature on each village green. 

Christian retained a vivid recollection of 
entering one of these taverns with Emanuel, 
very early in his tour of observation. Above 
the broad, open door, as they went in, swung 
the cumbrous, brightly painted sign of “The 
Torr Arms. ’ ’ Two or three laborers in 
corduroys were seated on benches at the 
table, with tankards before them ; they 
dragged their heavily shod feet together on 
the sanded floor, and stood up, when they 
saw Emanuel, touching their hats with an 
air of affectionate humility as he smiled and 
nodded to them. There was a seemingly 
intelligent and capable landlady in the bar, 
who drew the two glasses of beer which 
Emanuel asked for, and answered cheerfully 
the questions he put to her. Two bright- 
faced young women, very neatly dressed, 
were seated sewing in this commodious bar, 
and they joined in the conversation which 
Emanuel raised. Christian gathered from 
what he heard and saw that his cousin took 
an active interest in the fortunes of this 
tavern and of both its inmates and its 


224 


GLORIA MUNDI 


patrons, and that the interest and liking 
were warmly reciprocated. The discovery 
gave him a more genial conception of Eman- 
uel’s character than he had hitherto enter- 
tained. 

“That is one of my most satisfactory enter- 
prises, * ’ Emanuel had said when they came 
out. “We brew our own beer, as well as the 
few cordials which take the place of spirits, 
and I really feel sure it’s the best beer 
obtainable in England. I am very proud of 
it — but I am proud of these taverns of ours 
too. That was one of the hardest problems 
to be solved — but the solution satisfies me 
better, perhaps, than anything else I have 
done. Nobody ever dreams of getting drunk 
in these ‘pubs’ of ours. Nobody dreams of 
being ashamed to be seen going into them or 
coming out. The women and children enter 
them just as freely, if they have occasion to 
do so, as they would a dairy or grocer's 
shop. They are the village clubs, so to 
speak, and they are constantly open to the 
whole village, as much as the church or the 
tolsey. But here is one of my parsons. I 
want you to take note of him — and I will tell 
you about his part in the System afterward. 
He is as interesting a figure in it as my 
publican. ” 

A tall, fresh-faced, fair young man 
225 


GLORIA MUNDI 


approached them as Emanuel spoke, and 
was presented to the stranger as Father 
William. Christian observed him narrowly, 
as he had been bidden, but beyond the fact 
that he was clad in a somewhat outlandish 
fashion, and seemed a merry-hearted fellow, 
there was nothing noteworthy in the impres- 
sion he produced. He stood talking for a 
few minutes, and then, with affable adieux, 
passed on. 

“That is wholly my invention,” com- 
mented Emanuel, as they resumed their 
walk. “There is one of them in each of the 
six villages, and a seventh who has a kind 
of general function — and really I have been 
extraordinarily fortunate with them all. 
They come from my college at Oxford — 
Swithin’s — and when you think that twenty 
years ago it was the most bigoted hole in 
England, the change is most miraculous. 
These young men fell in with my ideas like 
magic. I don’t suppose you know much 
about the Church of England. Well, it drives 
with an extremely loose rein. You can do 
almost anything you like inside it, if you go 
about the thing decorously. I didn’t even 
have the trouble with the bishop which might 
have been expected. These young men — 
my curates, we may call them — have among 
themselves a kind of guild or confraternity. 

226 


GLORIA MUNDI 


They are called Father William, or Father 
Alfred ; they wear the sort of habit you have 
seen ; they are quite agreed upon an irredu- 
cible minimum of dogmatic theology, and an 
artistic elaboration of the ritual, and, above 
all, upon an active life consecrated to good 
works. They have their own central chap- 
ter-house, where they live when they choose 
and feel like enjoying one another’s society, 
but each has his own village, for the moral 
and intellectual health of which he feels 
responsible. Without their constant and 
very capable oversight, the System would 
have a good many ragged edges, I’m afraid. 
But what they do is wonderful. They have 
made a study of all the different tempera- 
ments and natures among the people. They 
know just how to smooth away possible 
friction here, to encourage dormant energy 
there, to keep the whole thing tight and 
clean and sound. They specially watch the 
development of the children, and make care- 
ful notes of their qualities and capacities. 
They decide which are to be fully educated, 
and which are to be taught only to read and 
do sums. ’ ’ 

“I am not sure that I understand,” put in 
Christian. ‘ ‘ Is not universal education a part 
of your plan?” 

Emanuel smiled indulgently. “There was 


227 


GLORIA MUNDI 


never grosser nonsense talked in this world, ” 
he said, with the placid air of one long since 
familiar with the highest truths, “or more 
mischievous rubbish into the bargain, than 
this babble about universal education. The 
thing we call modern civilization is wrong 
at so many points that it is hard to say where 
it sins most, but often I think this is its 
worst offense. The race has gone fairly mad 
over this craze for stuffing unfit brains with 
encumbering and harmful twaddle. In the 
Middle Ages they knew better. The monks 
of a locality picked out the children whose 
minds would repay cultivation, and they 
taught these as much as it was useful for 
them to know. If the system was in honest 
operation, it mattered nothing whether these 
children belonged to the lord of the manor 
or the poorest peasant. Assume, for example, 
that there was a nobleman and one of his 
lowest dependents, and that each of them 
had a clever son and a dull one. The monks 
would take the two clever ones, and educate 
them side by side — and if in the end the base 
born boy had the finer mind of the two, and 
the stronger character, he would become the 
bishop or the abbot or the judge in preference 
to his noble school-fellow. On the other 
hand, the two dull boys were not wearied by 
schooling from which they could get no 
228 


GLORIA MUNDI 


profit. The thick-headed young noble, very 
often without even learning his alphabet, was 
put on a horse, and given a suit of armor and 
a sword ; the heavy- witted young churl was 
given a leathern shirt and a pike or a bow, 
and bidden to follow behind that horse’s tail 
— and off the two happy dunces went, to ful- 
fill in a healthful and intelligent fashion their 
manifest destiny. Those were the rational 
days when human institutions were made to 
fit human beings — instead of this modern 
lunacy of either shaving down and mangling 
the human being, or else blowing him up 
like a bladder, to make him appear to fit the 
institutions. Of course, you must under- 
stand, I don’t say that this medieval system 
worked uniformly, or perfectly, even at its 
best — and, of course, for a variety of reasons, 
it eventually failed to work altogether. But 
its principle, its spirit, was the right one — 
and it is only by getting back to it, and mak- 
ing another start with the light of experience 
to guide us this time, that we can achieve real 
progress. Fortunately, my parsons entered 
fully, and quite joyfully, into my feelings on 
this point. They couldn’t have labored 
harder, or better, to make the System a 
success if it had been of their own inven- 
tion.” 

“I have seen English parsons of ten, ” said 


229 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian, vaguely. “They are always 
married, n’est ce pas?” 

“.Oh, no— no!” answered Emanuel, with 
impatient emphasis. “That would never do 
here. It is difficult enough to find men fit to 
carry on the task we have undertaken. It 
would be asking too much of the miracle to 
expect also unique women who would bring 
help rather than confusion to such men. Oh, 
no — we take no risks of that sort. Celibacy 
is the very basis of their guild. It is very 
lucky that their own tastes run in that direc- 
tion — because in any case it would have had 
to be insisted upon.” 

Christian wondered if he ought to put into 
words the comment which rose in his mind. 
“But you, and your father,” he ventured — 
“you personally — ” 

“Ah,” interposed Emanuel, with a rapt 
softening of expression in face and tone, 
“when women like my mother and my wife 
appear — that lifts us away from the earth 
and things earthly, altogether. But they 
are as rare as a great poem — or a comet. If 
they were plentiful there would be no need 
of any System. The human race would 
never have fallen into the mud. We should 
all be angels. * ’ 

After a little pause he added : ‘ ‘ The woman 
question here has been a very hard nut to 
230 


GLORIA MUNDI 


crack. We have made some progress with 
it — hut it is still one of the embarrassments. 
Of course there are others. The restless 
young men who leave the estate, for 
example, and having made a failure of it 
elsewhere, come back to make mischief here : 
That is an awkward subject to deal with. 
The whole problem of our relations to out- 
siders is full of perplexities. To prevent 
intercourse with them is out of the question. 
They come and go as they like — and of course 
my own people are equally free. I can’t see 
my way to any restrictions which wouldn’t 
do more harm than good — if indeed they 
could be enforced at all. I have to rely 
entirely upon the good sense and good feel- 
ing of my people, to show them how much 
better off they are in every way than any 
other community they know of, and how 
important it is for them to keep themselves 
to themselves, and continue to benefit by 
their good fortune. If they fail to under- 
stand this, I am quite powerless to coerce 
them. And that is where the women give us 
trouble. It is the rarest thing for us to have 
any difficulty with the men. They compre- 
hend their advantages, they take a warm 
interest in their work, and we have developed 
among them a really fine communal spirit. 
They are proud of the System, and fond of 


231 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it, and I can trust them to defend it and 
stand by it. But this isn’t true of all the 
women. You have always the depressing 
consciousness that there are treacherous 
malcontents among them, who smile to your 
face but are planning disturbance behind your 
back. It is not so much a matter of evil na- 
tures as of inferior brains. Let a soldier in a 
red coat come along, for example — an utterly 
ignorant and vulgar clown from heaven 
knows what gutter or pigsty — and we have 
girls here who would secretly value his 
knowledge of the world, and his advice upon 
things in general, above mine! How can 
you deal with that sort of mind?” 

Christian smiled drolly, and disclaimed 
responsibility with a playful outward gesture 
of his hands. “It is not my subject,” he 
declared. 

“But it has to be faced,” insisted Eman- 
uel. “My wife has devoted incredible labor 
and pains to ft — and on the surface of things 
she has succeeded wonderfully. I say the 
surface, because that is the sinister peculi- 
arity of the affair; you can never be sure 
what is underneath. When you go up to 
London, you must do as I have done since I 
was a youth : take a walk of a bright after- 
noon along Regent Street and Oxford Street, 
where the great millinery and drapers’ and 
232 


GLORIA MUNDI 


jewelers’ shops are, and study the faces of 
the thousands of well-dressed and well-con- 
nected women whom you will see passing 
from one show-window to another. There 
will be many beautiful faces, and many more 
which are deeply interesting. But one note 
you will catch in them all — or at least in the 
vast majority — the note of furtiveness. 
Once you learn to recognize it you will find it 
everywhere — the suggestion of something 
hidden, something artfully wrapped up out of 
sight. God knows, I don’t suggest they all 
have guilty secrets — or for that matter secrets 
of any sort. But they have the trained 
facial capacity for concealment; it is their 
commonest accomplishment; their mothers’ 
fingers have been busy kneading their fea- 
tures into this mask of pretense from their 
earliest girlhood.” 

“Would you not find it also on the men’s 
faces?” demanded Christian, with a dissolv- 
ing mental vision of sly masculine visages 
before him as he spoke. “That is to say, 
when once you had learned to detect the 
male variation of the mask? And even if it 
is so, then is not the reason of it this — that 
men have long been their own masters, 
making their own laws, doing freely what 
they choose, and there is no one before whom 
they must dissemble?” 

233 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Emanuel had not the temperament which 
is attracted by contradiction. He listened to 
his cousin’s eager words, seemed to ponder 
them for a space, and then began talking of 
something else. 

Those whom Emanuel called “his people” 
were for the most part descendants of 
families who had been on the soil for cen- 
turies — since before the Torrs came into 
possession of it. In a few cases, their stock 
had been transplanted from the Shropshire 
estates of the same house. Emanuel had 
discerned it to be an essential part of the 
System that its benefits should be reaped by 
those to whom his family had historic 
responsibilities. The reflection that the 
Torrs in Somerset only went back at the 
farthest to Henry VIII. ’s time, and became 
large landlords there so recently as Charles 
II. ’s reign, saddened him when he dwelt 
upon it. He would have given much to 
have been able to establish the System at 
Caermere instead, where the relations be- 
tween lord and retainer had subsisted from 
the dawn of tribal history. He dwelt a good 
deal upon this aspect of the matter in his 
talks with Christian. “If you take up the 
idea,” he would say, “you will have the 
enormous advantage of really ancient ties be- 
tween you and your people. Here in Somer- 


234 


GLORIA MUNDI 


set we are, relatively speaking, new-comers — 
merely lucky bridegrooms or confiscating 
interlopers of a few generations’ standing. 
I have had to create my feudal spirit here 
out of whole cloth. But you at Caermere — 
you will find it ready-made to your hand. ’ ’ 

Emanuel had created much more besides. 

The villages hummed with the exotic 
industries he had brought into being. The 
estate produced most of its raw material — 
food, wool, hides, peat for domestic fuel, 
stone in several varieties for building, and 
numerous products of the sea. It drew coal, 
wood and iron across the channel from the 
Caermere properties. The effort of the 
System had been from the outset to expand 
its self-sufficiency. Christian saw now the 
remarkable results of this effort on both 
sides. One village had its leather workers, 
beginning with the tanners at one end and 
finishing with the most skillful artificers — 
glovers, saddlers and shoemakers — at the 
other. A second village possessed its colony 
of builders — masons and carpenters alike — 
and with them guiding architects and 
designers of furniture and carving. Here 
also were the coopers, who served not only 
the brewery, but the butter-makers. These 
latter formed in turn a link with the great 
dairy establishment, which had for its flank 
235 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the farming lands. The gardens, nurseries, 
orchards and long glasshouses were nearest 
to Emanuel’s residence, and their workers 
made up the largest of the hamlets. This 
was in other senses the metropolis of the 
state, for here were the printing-press, the 
bindery, the chemical laboratory, the elec- 
tric-light plant, the photographic and draw- 
ing departments, the clergy house and the 
estate office. The smallest of the villages 
was in the center of the stock farm, where 
scientific breeding and experimental acclima- 
tization had attained results of which the 
staid “Field” spoke in almost excited terms. 

But to Christian’s mind by far the most 
interesting village was that nestled on the 
sea-shore, under the protection of the cliffs. 
When he had once seen this place, his cousin 
found it difficult to get him away from it, or 
to enlist his attention for other branches of 
the System. There was a small but sufficient 
wharf here, to which colliers of a fair burden 
could have access ; shelter was secured for 
the home-built fishing craft in the little har- 
bor by means of a breakwater. The red- 
roofed, gray-stone cottages clustered along 
the winding roadway which climbed the cliff 
made a picture fascinating to the young 
man’s eye, but his greater delight was in 
something not at first visible. Around a 
236 


GLORIA MUNDI 


bend in the cove, out of sight of the village, 
was a factory for the manufacture of glass, 
and beyond this were pointed out to him 
other buildings, near the water’s edge, which 
he was told were used for curing, pickling 
and otherwise preserving fish. “We make 
our own glass for the gardens and forcing 
houses, and for all the dwellings on the es- 
tate, ” Emanuel had told him, “and for 
another use as well. ’ ’ 

The statement had not aroused his curiosity 
at the moment, but a little later, when he 
confronted the embodiment of its meaning, 
he murmured aloud in his astonishment. 
He found himself walking in a spacious 
corridor, beneath a roof of semi-opaque, 
greenish glass, and between walls that 
seemed of solid crystal, stretching onward 
as far as the eye could reach. A bar of 
sunlight, striking through aslant from some- 
where outside, painted a central glowing 
prismatic patch of color, which reflected 
itself in countless wavering gleams of orange 
and purple all about him. A curious moving 
glitter, as of fountains noiselessly at play, 
traversed the upper surface of these glass 
walls, and flashed confusion at his first scru- 
tiny. Then he gave a schoolboy’s shout of 
joy and rushed forward to the nearest side. 
He was in a giant aquarium — and these were 


237 


GLORIA MUNDI 


actual fishes of the sea swimming placidly 
before him ! Even as he stared in bewild- 
ered pleasure, with his nose flattened against 
the glass, there lounged toward him, across 
the domed back of a king-crab, the biggest 
conger he had ever imagined to himself. 
He put up a hand instinctively to ward off 
the advance of the impassive eel — then 
laughed aloud for glee. 

“Oh, this is worth all the rest!” he cried 
to Emanuel. 

“Yes, good idea, isn’t it?” said the other. 
“It was my wife who suggested it. We 
had started making our own glass — and really 
this was a most intelligent way of using it. 
In time I think it will be of great value, too. 
We have some clever men down here, from 
time to time, to study the specimens. I’m 
sorry no one is here for the moment. I 
thought at first of building a residence for 
them, and putting it all at their disposal in 
a regular way as a kind of marine observa- 
tory, like that at Naples. But after all, it 
would hardly be fair to the system. My first 
duty is to my own people, and we’ve got 
some young men of our own who are making 
good use of it. There are a hundred or 
more of these tanks, and we are fitting up 
electrical machinery to get automatic control 
of the water supply, and to regulate the tem- 
238 


GLORIA MUNDI 


perature more exactly. But beyond the spec- 
tacle of the fishes themselves — our people 
make holiday excursions here every fortnight 
or so — and certain things we learn about food 
and fecundation and so on, I don’t know that 
there’s much to be said for the practical 
utility of this department. Further on you 
will see the oyster and mussel beds, and 
the lobsters and crabs. I attach much more 
importance to the experiments we are 
making out there. There seems almost no 
limit to what can be done in those fields, 
now that we have learned how to go to 
work. It is as simple a matter to rear 
lobsters as it is to rear chickens.” 

“But it is all wonderful!” cried Christian, 
once more. ‘ ‘ But tell me — this costs a great 
sum of money. I am afraid to think how 
much. Is it your hope — shall you ever get 
a profit from it?” 

Emanuel smiled. “There is no question 
of profits, ” he explained, gently. “The 
System as a whole supports itself — or rather 
is entirely capable of doing so. The capital 
that I have spent in putting the System upon 
its feet, so to speak, I count as nothing. It 
belonged to the people who had been with 
us all these centuries and I have merely 
restored it to them. In the eyes of the law 
it is all mine, and from that point of view I 


239 


GLORIA MUNDI 


am a much richer man than I was before 
the System began. But in practice it belongs 
to all my people. I take enough to live 
as befits my station ; each of the others has 
enough to maintain him in his station, com- 
fortably and honorably. Whatever the sur- 
plus may be, that is devoted to the objects 
which we all have in common. You see it is 
simplicity itself. ’ ’ 

“But that is like my brother Salvator’s 
doctrine,’’ said Christian. “It is socialism, 
is it not?’’ Emanuel’s fine brows drew 
together in an impatient frown. “Please do 
not use that word, ’ ’ he said, with a shade 
of annoyance in his tone. “The very sound 
of it affronts my ears. Nothing vexes me 
more than to have my work unthinkingly 
coupled with that monstrous imposture. If 
you will think of it, I am more opposed to 
what is called socialism than anybody else on 
earth. I have elaborated the one satisfac- 
tory system, on lines absolutely opposed to 
it. I furnish the best weapon for fighting 
and slaying that pernicious delusion that the 
whole world offers. So you see, I have a 
right to protest when people confuse me 
with my bitterest antagonist. ’ ’ 

“Pardon!” said Christian, with humility. 
“I am so badly informed upon all these 
matters ! ’ ’ 


240 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Ah, well, yon will understand them per- 
fectly, all in good time, ” his cousin reassured 
him in a kindly way. 

Christian drew a furtive sigh as they moved 
along. To his fancy the large fishes in the 
tanks regarded him with a sympathetic eye. 


241 


' 











I 









CHAPTER XII 


“It has done Emanuel a world of good to 
have you here,” said Kathleen, on the morn- 
ing of Christian’s leave-taking. “Of course 
it has been a delight to us both — but he has 
had a personal benefit from it, too. He 
works too hard. He carries such a burden 
of details about in his mind — by day and by 
night, for he sleeps badly and is forever 
dreaming of his work — that companionship 
with some new and attractive mind is of the 
greatest rest and help to him. And he is 
very fond of you. ’ ’ 

Christian nodded gratified acknowledg- 
ment of the words and their spirit, with a 
glow in his dark eyes. In little more than 
an hour he would be on his way to London 
— that mighty, almost fabulous goal of his 
lifelong dreams. He was already dressed 
for the journey, in a traveling-suit of rough, 
fawn-colored cloth, and as he sat at ease in 
the breakfast-room with his cousin’s wife, 
his glance wandered very often from her 
face to a pleased contemplation of these 
garments. They were what he individually 
liked best in the wonderful collection of 


243 


GLORIA MUNDI 


clothes for which a fashionable tailor had 
come from London to measure him, and 
which were this moment being packed by 
the man up-stairs in bags and portmanteaus 
equally new. The tweeds enabled him to 
feel more like an Englishman than he had 
succeeded in doing before. 

He smiled diffidently at her. “I am so 
excited about going, he said, his voice 
wavering between exuberance and appeal — 
“and yet I ought to be thinking of nothing 
but my sorrow in leaving you dear people. 
But that will come to me soon enough — 
in a storm of homesickness— when once I 
find myself really alone.” 

“Oh, I’ll not deny we expect a little home- 
sickness,” she replied to him, cheerfully — 
“but it must not be enough to at all take the 
edge off your spirits. Oh, you’ll be vastly 
entertained and interested by all you see 
and hear. Young Lord Lingfield — you’ll be 
seeing him to-night at dinner — he will be 
greatly pleased to take you about, and 
properly introduce you. He will do it better 
than any other we can think of. He is not 
by any means an intellectual gladiator, but 
he is good-looking and amiable and he goes 
everywhere.” 

“He is my relation, too, I think Eman- 
uel said?” 


244 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Let’s work it out — his grandfather’s 
sister was your grandmother. Yes, that is 
it. She was the Lady Clarissa Poynes, the 
sister of the old earl of Chobham, who used 
to wear the blue coat and brass buttons to 
the end of his days. So she would be the 
aunt of the present earl, and the grand-aunt 
of young Lingfield. You stand in exactly 
the same relationship to Lord Lingfield that 
you would to a son of Emanuel’s — if he had 
one, poor man !” 

Christian had long since become sensible 
of the pathos which colored these references 
to the childlessness of the house. A tender 
instinct impelled him to hasten a diversion. 

‘ ‘ And how strange it is ! ” he cried. * ‘ They 
are as close to me, these people, in blood as 
Emanuel is — and yet I care nothing for them 
whatever. I shall meet them, and know 
them, and not feel that I am bound to them 
at all — whereas Emanuel is like a brother 
to me, whom I have been with and loved all 
my life. And you, ’ ’ he added, with a smile 
in his eyes — “you are more than any sister 
to me.” 

“Well, then, let me talk to you like a 
sister,’’ she rejoined. 

He thought he had not seen her before in 
precisely the mood which was discernible in 
her face and tone this morning. Outwardly 


245 


GLORIA MUNDI 


she was as gay and light-hearted as ever, and 
certainly she had not seemed on any pre- 
vious day to come so near being beautiful as 
well. The sense of sheer pleasure in being 
where she was, in listening to her and look- 
ing at her, and holding her affectionately 
bright attention for his own thoughts, was 
peculiarly strong in him to-day. But there 
was also the consciousness of a new gravity 
in her attitude toward him — a kind of yearn- 
ing apprehension of dangers threatening 
him. He saw again in her eyes when she 
looked at him that likeness to his mother’s 
glance — a wistfully sad glance as he most 
often recalled it. And yet Kathleen smiled 
merrily with it all, when occasion re- 
quired. 

“You are entering upon the great experi- 
ence now,” she said to him. “I think it was 
very wise of Emanuel to show you first what 
we may call his ideal state of society. By 
all the rules, it ought to help you to under- 
stand in the right way what you will see of 
the society which — well, which isn’t in an 
ideal state. But there are certain things 
which get to be understood, not so much by 
brains, as by years. That is to say, the very 
cleverest youth may not be able to see, in 
this one respect, what is plain enough to 
most dull persons at forty. Emanuel tells 
246 


GLORIA MUNDI 

t 

that he has talked with you about women in 
general. ’ ’ 

“He does not like them very much,” said 
Christian, laughingly. 

She twisted the corners of her mouth in a 
droll little grimace, which seemed to express 
approval of his mirth, and something more 
besides. 

“He takes them with tremendous serious- 
ness, * ’ she answered. ‘ 4 That is his way with 
everything. He makes all sorts of classifica- 
tions — the bigger they are and the more 
complicated the better he likes them — and 
then he treats each one as a problem, and 
he worries at it with all his energy until he 
works out a satisfactory solution. It is only 
in that sense that he has a grievance against 
women. He has proceeded upon the theory 
that the sex is a unit, for philosophical pur- 
poses at least, and that he ought to be able 
to get at the rules which govern its actions. 
But we continue to baffle him, ’ ’ she added, 
again with the playful curl of the lips. 

“Oh, you — you are not in the problem,” 
protested Christian. “For you and his 
mother he has only the veneration one gives 
to one’s favorite saints.” 

“His mother was a great woman,” said 
Kathleen, serious once more. “I never saw 
her, but she is my patron saint, as you put 
247 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it, quite as much as his. I never permit 
myself to doubt that we should have loved 
each other deeply — and it is the sweetest 
thing any one can think of me, or say to me 
— to link us together. But even the saints 
have their specialties — and that implies 
limitations. I have a notion that Emanuel’s 
mother did not know many women, and so 
fell into a way of generalizing about them. 
Emanuel has that same tendency. I, who 
work among them daily, and make it my 
business to ' be teacher and mistress and 
mother and sister to some five hundred of 
them, young and old, foolish and wise — I 
come to believe that these generalizations are 
entirely mistaken. If a woman is brought 
up like a man, and circumstanced precisely 
like a man, and knows nothing of any con- 
ventions save those which control a man — 
why, then you can’t tell the difference 
between her opinions and actions and those 
of her brother. But you never get the chance 
to view a woman under those conditions.” 

‘‘But here we shall see them!” cried Chris- 
tian, with premature enthusiasm. “You 
will change all that ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, no, I shan’t,” she answered abruptly. 
“It is not being tried — it is not desirable. 
What I am doing proceeds quite on orthodox 
lines. We make a point of developing them 
248 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in the way of usefulness — material useful- 
ness, I mean. We teach them the useful 
accomplishments — spinning, weaving, sew- 
ing, dairy and poultry work, and above all 
things good cooking.” 

‘‘That I can well believe,” he declared. 
‘‘I have never eaten so many good dishes 
in my life as here. ” 

‘‘Yes, I have a talent in that direction,” 
she assented. “And I am prouder of it 
because it represents a triumph over my 
ancestral prejudices. You will get nothing 
good to eat in Ireland. The Irish have 
never respected food as a proper subject 
for serious human thought. It is the rarest 
thing to hear them mention it. There may 
be some fine spiritual quality in that — buc at 
all events we cook well here, and I have 
worked a complete revolution in that respect 
on the estate. There are certainly no such 
cooks and housekeepers anywhere else in 
England as my women. But you see what I 
mean. There is no effort to take women 
away from the work they have always been 
doing, but only to make them do it better. ’ ’ 

“But that in itself is very much,” urged 
Christian. Somehow he had the feeling that 
he was defending the System against a critic. 

“Undoubtedly,” she admitted. “And of 
course we do something more than that. 


249 


GLORIA MUNDI 


In a good many cases, when it was not incon- 
venient, I have put young girls of aptitude 
forward to learn designing and other arts. 
Some of them have made me some very 
tolerable tapestry, and a few of them are as 
intelligent and valuable in the greenhouses 
as our best men. In the matter of music 
they really beat them. Emanuel insists on 
a choir of glee singers in each village — and 
at Christmas time we have a competition of 
‘waits’ which will be worth your while com- 
ing to hear. For my part, I have a string 
orchestra of girls that I should not be 
ashamed to have play in London.” 

The word seemed to bring them back. 
“You were going to speak to me,” Chris- 
tian ventured, “about London. One thing — 
I shall see you there often, shall I not?’ ’ 

She slowly shook her head. “No, we 
have outgrown London, I’m afraid. It can 
be proved, I believe, that it is the biggest 
town in the world — but to us it is too small for 
comfort. It is now more than a year since 
we have been up at all. Why should we 
go? We have the National Gallery by heart, 
and the year’s pictures are rather distressing 
than otherwise. The theaters are intel- 
lectually beneath notice. There is the 
opera of course, and the concerts, but the 
people annoy us by talking loudly, and 
2?0 


GLORIA MUNDI 

t 

besides, we have our own music, and occa- 
sionally we bring down a Paderewski or a 
Sarasate for our people to hear. At the 
houses where we would naturally go, the 
women talk about matters of which I know 
absolutely nothing, and Emanuel either 
quarrels with the men about what they call 
their politics, or chokes silently with rage 
and disgust. And then the spectacle of the 
people in the streets — the poor of London ! — 
that fairly sickens our hearts. We have no 
joy of going at all. Occasionally we have 
guests down here, but it is not a very happy 
time they have of it. Everything is so 
strange to them that they are confused, and 
walk about with constraint, as if they were 
being shown around an asylum. So it hap- 
pens that I see very few women of my own 
class — and really know less about them than 
most people. And yet,” she added, with a 
twinkle in her eye, “so naturally audacious 
a race are the Irish — it is precisely about 
ladies in London society that I am going to 
read you a lecture.” 

Christian drew up his feet, and assumed 
an air of delighted anticipation. 

“First of all, you are six and twenty, 
and you will be thinking of marrying. 
What is more, you are what is called a great 
match, and for every thought that you give 


251 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to the subject of a wife, others will give ten 
thousand to the subject of you as a possible 
husband.” 

The young man looked into her kindly 
eyes with a sustained glance of awakening 
thought. This dazzling and princely posi- 
tion which she had thus outlined — sure 
enough, it was his ! How extraordinary that 
this had not suggested itself to him before ! 
Or had the perception of it not really lain 
dormant in his consciousness all the while? 
This question propounded itself to a mind 
which was engrossed in something else — for 
of a sudden there rose upon the blank back- 
ground of his thoughts the luminous face of 
a lady, beautiful, distinguished, exquisitely 
sensitized, and as by the trick of a dream she 
first wore a large garden hat, and then was 
bare-headed, her fair hair gathered loosely 
back into a careless knot. The mental pic- 
ture expanded, to show the full length of 
her queenly figure as she descended a broad 
staircase, with one lovely hand like a lily 
against the oak of the rail. Then it con- 
tracted, and underwent a strange metamor- 
phosis, for it was another face which he saw, 
a pale, earnest, clever face, and instead of 
the great stairway, there was the laced 
tawdriness of a French railway compartment. 

Then, with a start, and a backward move- 
252 


GLORI^ MUNDI 

ment of the head, he was free of dreamland, 
and blushingly conscious of having stared 
his cousin out of countenance. He laughed 
with awkward embarrassment. “I — I sup- 
pose it is true — what you say,” he remarked, 
stumblingly. 

She had perhaps some clew to the char- 
acter of his reverie. She smiled in a gently 
quizzical way, but went on soberly enough. 
“The thing of all things,” she said, “is to 
be clearly and profoundly convinced in your 
own mind that your marriage will be the 
most important event of your life — that it 
will indeed affect, for good or for bad, every 
conceivable element of your life. You have 
the kind of temperament which would be 
peculiarly susceptible to such intimate influ- 
ences. There are great numbers of men — 
the vast majority — to whom it does not 
matter so much. They accommodate them- 
selves to their burdens, and shuffle along 
somehow, with the patience of a cart-horse. 
But you — the wrong wife would wreck you 
and kill you. I am speaking frankly, 
laddie, ’ ’ — she gave the novel word an into- 
nation which made it music in his ears — 
“because you have no mother, and because 
you are going into a very trying and delicate 
situation with what I feel to be a pathetic 
lack of preparation. ’ ’ 

253 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian drew his chair nearer to her, and 
crossed his knees, and leaned back in an 
attitude of intimate ease. The conversation 
appealed powerfully to him as having more 
of the atmosphere of domesticity and sweet 
home influences in it than any he had ever 
heard. 

“I know almost nothing at all of women/’ 
he said, quite simply. “The mothers of my 
pupils I saw sometimes and occasionally a 
sister, but they were not in any sense my 
friends. As to marriage — of course that has 
never been in my head. Until only the 
other day, the idea of a wife would have 
been absurd. But now — as you say — it is 
not any longer absurd.” He paused and 
gazed absently past her, as if in pursuit of 
the thoughts his own words had set in 
motion. “I wonder — I wonder” — he mur- 
mured, and then turned his bright eyes to 
her, full of wistful expectancy. “Have you, 
par exemple, some one in your mind for 
me?” he asked. 

She laughed and shook her head. The 
implication in his tone, of entire readiness 
to accept the bride of her selection, had its 
amusing and its flattering sides; upon a 
second glance, however, it contained some- 
thing else not so much to her liking. She 
frowned a little at this something. 

254 


GLORIA MUNDI 

r 

“Oh, you must not approach the subject in 
that spirit,” she adjured him. “ It is the one 
affair of all others on earth in which you 
must be guided absolutely by your own 
heart and your own mind. We speak of the 
heart and mind as distinct from each other; 
I don’t know that they are not one and the 
same. Perhaps I would put it this way — 
when your heart and your mind are com- 
pletely agreed, when your personal liking 
and your deliberate judgment pull together 
in exactly the same direction — so that it 
seems to you that they are one and the same 
thing — then — then ” 

“Then what?” demanded Christian, bend- 
ing forward. 

“Oh, I am not fortunate in expressing 
myself to-day,” Kathleen declared, with a 
gesture of playful impatience. “But in 
general, this is what I wanted to say: Do 
not be betrayed into haste in this matter of 
deciding about a girl. You will see a large 
number of extremely attractive young ladies. 
They will certainly not be looking or behav- 
ing their worst for your benefit, and you on 
your side will be lacking the experience to 
tell precisely what it is all worth. So walk 
quietly along, with your wits about you, and 
see what there is to be seen for a time, and 
commit yourself to nothing. A year hence, 
255 


GLORIA MUNDI 


for example, you will look back upon your 
present condition of mind with surprise. 
You will not seem to yourself at all the same 
person. I can’t promise that you’ll be hap- 
pier,” she added, with a little smiling sigh, 
“but you will know a great deal more about 
what you want — or rather about making sure 
that you are getting what you want. ” 

“I know what I shall do,” he declared, 
after a moment’s reflection. “I shall come 
always to you, and beg your wise and good 
advice. You will tell me if I am making a 
bad choice.” 

“You talk as if you were entering upon a 
lifelong series of experiments, ’ ’ she laughed 
at him. “No, I’ll undertake no such 
responsibility as that, young man.” She 
explained, more gravely : “ It is never quite 
possible for a friend, no matter how wise and 
fond the friend may be, to advise upon this 
matter. To give information upon the sub- 
ject, that is another affair. But specific 
advice, no. But let me finish what I had 
in mind to say. You have seen here, during 
this past fortnight, what great hopes are 
built upon your administration of your 
affairs when you come into the title. No, 
don’t speak yet. You must not pledge 
yourself at all to the System. It would be 
unfair to let you do it. But at all events 
256 


GLORIA MUNDI 

you have seen it, and you will think it all 
over, and, whether you take it up altogether 
or not, I know it will have its effect on you. 
You will set an ideal of usefulness and duty 
before you, and you will have your heart 
fixed on realizing it. Well, then, I counsel 
you above all things to keep that idea in 
mind whenever you think of marriage. A 
man has a good many sides to his life, but 
the side which is most vital to him is that of 
the work he wants to do in the world. If 
the wife fits perfectly on that side, the dis- 
crepancies elsewhere are of small account by 
comparison. They smooth away, they 
adjust themselves. But the misfit on the 
side of the man’s ambitions — that never 
effaces itself. And so, just in proportion as 
the work you want to do becomes clear in 
your mind, you ought to define to yourself 
the type of woman who will be most sympa- 
thetic toward that work, and who will best 
help you in it — or rather, who will help you 
in it in the way you like best. I don’t say 
you will find the perfect type of that woman 
— but you should have the type before you, 
and be able to measure people by its stand- 
ards. But I have harangued you long 
enough ! There is something in the atmos- 
phere here: we all deliver lectures to each 
other at the most unscrupulous length. 


257 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Poor boy! We’ve done nothing but make 
speeches to you since you showed in sight. ’ ’ 

Christian deprecated her suggestion with 
persuasive hands. “I have learned here, I 
think, all that I know,” he protested. He 
did not, however, insist upon further gen- 
eralizations. ‘‘One thing you said,” he 
remarked, thoughtfully, “puts a question 
into my head. You said it was better to 
give information than advice. Now there is 
so much that I am in ignorance about. 
Perhaps I do wrong to ask you — but I am 
curious to know more about the people of 
the family — our own family. There are no 
ladies of my own blood? I mean, all I have 
seen or heard of come to us by marriage, 
like yourself.” 

“You hit upon the weakest and unhappiest 
point,” she replied. “There has not been a 
daughter born in the Torr family for over a 
hundred years. I have always insisted that 
this has operated like a curse on the family. 
The beautiful humanizing charm of little 
girls about the house — this they have never 
felt. The mothers have had no daughters 
to lean upon, the men have never known 
what a sister was like. That one fact, it 
seems to me, is enough to account for every- 
thing that is hard and rough and cruel in 
their story.” 


258 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian bowed his head in silent token 
of comprehension. 

“I am always more grieved than angry, 
when I’m thinking of the black sheep in the 
family fold,” she went on. “They had 
never a chance. It was like a tradition in 
the family that the father should be a brute 
and the mother a fool. A daughter here 
and there might have softened the combi- 
nation — but with little boys alone face to face 
with it — what could they do? They grew up 
in the stables and the kennels. Think of 
those two young men whom you met at 
Caerniere, for example. Lord Julius told 
me of their scene with you, and I’m far from 
blaming you — but think of their bringing 
up! Their father, Lord Edward, I remem- 
ber very well. I saw him when I was a girl, 
at the Punchestown races, and my brother 
told me his name. Even without it, I 
should have remembered his face as the 
coarsest and meanest I ever saw. He 
married a woman out of some vile gambling 
set that he was in as a young man. She is 
still alive somewhere, and has an allowance 
from Lord Julius for suppressing herself, 
and not using the family name. Well, 
when I think of the blood in those two boys, 
and of the horrors of their childhood till 
they were taken away from their mother, 
259 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and sent into the country to school — upon 
my soul I can only wonder that they come 
so near decency as they do. Your encounter 
with them happened to strike out sparks, but 
you must remember what a blow it repre- 
sented to them.” 

The young man gave a somewhat per- 
functory nod. His sympathies were some- 
how obdurate upon this particular point. 

“Oh, and that reminds me,” she went on. 
“I said that the family was daughterless — 
but Eddy has a little girl. It is very quaint 
to think what she will grow up like, under 
the maternal wing of Cora Bayard. Yet I 
am told there are worse mothers than Cora. 
I’ve never seen her, myself.” 

“I saw her at Caermere,” Christian re- 
marked. “She seemed very frightened and 
sad — and since it was because of me, I did 
not look much at her. I remember only the 
effect of a likeness to Pierrot — the red lips 
on the white face. But” — he drew his chair 
still nearer, and betrayed by manner and 
tone alike his approach to a subject of more 
than casual interest — “the other lady whom I 
saw there — Lady Cressage — I had much 
conversation with her. I feel that she and I 
are friends. I liked her very much indeed — 
but I have no information about her what- 
ever. If I am permitted to confess it — I 
260 


GLORIA MUNDI 

tried to talk about her with Lord Julius and 
with Emanuel, but they at once spoke of 
other things. You see how frankly I am 
telling you everything ; that is because you 
make me feel so wonderfully at home. But 
perhaps you do not like to talk about her, 
either. ’ * 

She smiled pleasantly enough in comment 
upon his faltering conclusion. “Oh, I think 
you exaggerate the conspiracy of silence,” 
she answered. “Neither Lord Julius nor 
Emanuel has anything hostile to say about 
Edith Cressage, but she doesn’t quite appeal 
to their imagination, and so they find noth- 
ing of any sort to say. But it is only fair to 
remember that they are both men with 
peculiar and exacting standards for women. 
They would be equally silent about a hun- 
dred other ladies of unblemished character, 
and of beauty and wit untold. It is nothing 
at all against her that she hasn’t excited 
their enthusiasm. I do not know her at all 
well, but I think she is very nice. Now — is 
that what you wanted me to say?” 

The mild note of banter which informed 
her words put Christian if possible even 
more at his ease. He stood up, with his 
hands in the sleek pockets of his new coat, 
and bent down upon her a joyous smile. 

“No, ever so much more!” he insisted, 
261 


GLORIA MUNDI 


gaily. “She is very beautiful; she has the 
air and the distinction of a grande dame; 
she speaks like a flute, and what she says is 
clever and apropos ; she is unhappy, and yet 
with no bitterness toward any one; she 
seemed to like me very much, and, mind 
you, she was the first fine lady whom I had 
ever met. Enfin, she is my cousin, and the 
fact impresses me. What is more natural 
than that I should be eager to know all 
about her?” 

Kathleen did not respond readily to his 
mood. She knitted her brows slightly once 
more, and looked away from him toward the 
window. “It is rather hard for me to 
explain,” she began at last, doubtfully. 
“From a good many points of view — her own 
included — I dare say we do her an injustice. 
Don’t misunderstand me; we are all sorry 
for her — and I for one have my moments of 
doubt whether we oughtn’t to be something 
more than sorry. ’ ’ 

“Yes, that is the phrase,” put in Chris- 
tian, strenuously. “I think that I myself 
am something more than sorry for her.” 

She looked up at him, at first with a 
shadow of apprehension in her eyes. Then 
she estimated aright his enthusiasm with a 
gentle smile. “I will explain as well as I 
can,” she said, softly. “As you say, you 
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GLORIA MUNDI 

are entitled to be told. The feeling-, then, 
is — I am speaking of Lord Julius and 
Emanuel, and more or less of myself too — 
the feeling is that she ought not to have 
made the marriage she did. Everybody 
knew that the young man she married was a 
worthless creature — a violent, ignorant, low- 
minded fellow. You could not see him, 
much less talk with him, without recognizing 
this. One knows perfectly well that she 
must have hated the very thought of him as 
a lover or a companion. But he is the heir 
to a dukedom, and so she marries him. You 
see what I mean; it seemed an unpleasant 
thing to us. ’ ’ 

Christian considered with a puzzled air the 
situation thus defined. “But,” he com- 
mented, with hesitation, “it is the mdtier 
of a young woman to get a husband, and to 
get the best one for herself that she can. 
If she is so beautiful that a man wishes to 
make her a duchess, why, that is her triumph. 
Would you have her forego it? And if she 
says ‘no’, why, then the next one he asks 
says ‘yes’ — and it is merely that the first one 
has waived her place in the queue for 
another. The queue remains the same. 
And if this were not so, why, then, young 
men who are not very good, they would get 
no wives at all. But, ” he added, in extenu 
263 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ation of his dissent, “all these matters are so 
differently regarded, you know, in France. * ’ 

She did not look altogether pleased with 
him. “I thought you would have caught 
my meaning more readily,” she said, 
“despite your Continental point of view. 
For that matter, it is the common English 
point of view also. There is a matrimonial 
market, of course, and girls offer themselves 
in it to the highest bidder, and nothing that 
we can do will change it. But at least we 
are free to think what we like of the wretched 
business — and to hold our own opinions of 
the people who traffic in it.” 

Kathleen had stated her position with a 
certain argumentative warmth, which gave 
her tone a novel effect of reproof. The 
sight now of the young man’s saddened and 
surprised expression sent her mood up with 
a rebound. She put a hand on his arm, as 
he stood before her, and reassured him by a 
kindly laugh. ‘‘Ah, now,” she said, with 
genial pleading in her soft voice, “don’t be 
making a mountain of my molehill. I only 
wanted you to understand how we felt. 
And as I have told you, we have our reser- 
vations about even that feeling. The poor 
girl did only what she was expected to do — 
what her mother and her family and all the 
friends that surrounded her took it quite as 
264 


GLORIA MUNDI 


a matter of course that she should do. Prob- 
ably she never once encountered the opinion 
that she should do otherwise. No doubt 
that is to be said for her. In fact, I should 
never have dreamed of blaming her to you, 
if you had not pressed me. And after it’s all 
said and done, you may take it from me that 
perhaps I don’t blame her so very much. She 
was poor, and not over comfortable at home, 
I think, and she was very young, and people 
ran after her to an extraordinary extent — and 
to be the beauty of the season in London is 
enough to turn any one’s head. Poor creature 
— it’s bitterly enough she’s paid for her 
whistle!” 

He smiled down into her eyes. “That is 
how I knew you would end by speaking of 
her,” he said. “It is in that same way that 
she moves me — by my compassion. And 
this is my fancy” — he began, in a more 
vivacious tone — “I should like to tell it to 
you — it seems that I am to have the power 
to do so many such wonderful things — well, 
then, nothing would delight me more than 
to be very good to her. It is my fantaisie — 
and there is no harm in it, is there? — to atone 
to her for some of the unhappiness she has 
suffered. I have thought about it much 
since I left Caermere. It seems that it 
would be a good thing for me to do — like an 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


act of piety. You must remember — she was 
the first lady who spoke kindly to me in 
England. And I think you will be pleased 
with me for being grateful. But, of course, 
if Emanuel tells me ‘no’ ” 

“Oh, no one will tell you ‘no,’ ’’ she 
assured him, rising as she spoke, and looking 
into his face with beaming eyes. “It is the 
kind of spirit we like in you. Never imag- 
ine that we will be obstacles in its way. 
Only be on your guard against the soft heart 
running away with you. The world is full 
of clever and adroit people who practice 
upon innocent generosity. It is not so much 
the worth of what they wheedle from you, 
as the shock of your discovery of their tricks. 
That hurts a young nature, and very often 
callouses and hardens it. But here I am, 
lecturing you again!” 

Christian had not, in truth, been following 
her remarks with complete attention. Some- 
thing had come up in his mind, which by 
the time she stopped he seemed to have 
turned over and over, and examined from 
many standpoints, and finally decided to 
speak about. 

“I was not wholly exact,” he began, with 
constraint, “when I said that Lady Cressage 
was the first lady who spoke kindly to me in 
England. I mentioned it to Lord Julius — 

266 


GLORIA MUNDI 


there was a very charming and good young 
lady who traveled with me from Rouen, and 
crossed on the boat — and it is a very curious 
thing, but when we became acquainted, and 
I hinted to her about my story, she knew 
who I was. Indeed, it was she who told me 
who I was. I had the whole wonderful tale 
from her — and the kindness and sweet 
sympathy with which she told it to me, a little 
at a time — ah, that is what I will never forget ! 
I am bound to remember her with gratitude 
all my life. And that is another fantaisie 
of mine — that I shall do something good for 
her Oh, she has no selfish thoughts! She 
would not even tell me her name!” 

Kathleen’s comment was prefaced by a 
mirthful chuckle. “I can’t deny that grati- 
tude is a very active and resourceful element 
in your composition,” she declared, and 
laughed again. “Oh, we’ll advertise for 
her. How would this do: ‘The young lady 
who meets returning lost heirs to the British 
nobility at Rouen, and lets them down 
easily’? Or we might ” 

“Ah,” Christian interrupted, pleadingly, 
“I am really very sincere about her. You 
cannot imagine anything finer or more deli- 
cate than her character. And besides,” — he 
added this with visible reluctance — “I have 
learned since who she is. Lady Cressage 
267 


GLORIA MUNDI 


told me. She is the sister of the lady you 
call Cora — the wife of that young man 
Edward — but she is not an actress! It is 
not in the least her type! She earns her 
own living — she has some work to do — I 
think it is with a writing-machine — that is, a 
type-writer, n’est-ce pas?” 

Mrs. Emanuel did not immediately reply, 
but moved to the window, looked out and 
then walked slowly back to where he stood. 
“I am not going to suggest an unkind 
thought about this girl,” she said, deliber- 
ately. “I would not want you to think 
differently of her, or of the grateful impulse 
you have toward her. Indeed, I have heard 
something of her — and it is much to her 
credit. But — this sounds a mean thing to 
say, and yet it has its important true side — 
people should stick to their class. Bear that 
always in mind. There seem to be brilliant 
exceptions to the rule, whenever we look 
about us — but just the same, the rule exists. 
But — now I will stop, once for all!” She 
mused at him, with a twinkling eye. “You 
poor lad, there’s something about you that 
draws down lectures as a lightning-rod draws 
electricity. And here’s the trap!” 

When Emanuel returned from London a 
few days later, to report that his young 
cousin had been comfortably installed in 
268 


GLORIA MUNDI 


chambers on Duke Street, St. James’s, and 
seemed to get on capitally with Lord Ling- 
field, who was showing him the ropes, Kath- 
leen received the news with less than her 
accustomed cheerfulness. 

“I haven’t been quite happy, thinking of 
him alone in London, ’ ’ she admitted, in the 
course of their conversation. “I feel, some- 
how, as if we should have gone up, and 
taken a house for the winter. ’ ’ 

“Ah, but, sweetheart,’’ he urged, almost 
reproachfully, “you see how I am up to my 
eyes in all sorts of work. This is really 
about the most trying and ticklish stage we 
have gone through yet. If the fibrous silk 
processes are what is claimed for them, and 
your girls display the aptitude that you 
count upon *’ 

But Kathleen for once seemed not to 
listen. She had turned, and moved a few 
steps listlessly away. She took a flower from 
a vase, picked it to pieces and gazed in a 
brown study at the meaningless fragments. 

“Yes, I know,’’ she remarked at last, with 
a half sigh. Then she threw the petals into 
the grate, and, with a decisive little shake of 
head and shoulders, wheeled round, and 
came smilingly to her husband. 

“And whom did you see in town?’’ she 
asked. 


26Q 


























\ 









H » 7 I 
















PART III 


CHAPTER XIII 

Toward the end of April, there came an 
afternoon on which Christian seemed to 
himself to wake up of a sudden as from a 
harassed sleep. 

He had been in England for over six 
months, when all at once he became con- 
scious of this queer sensation: the experi- 
ences oh his half year put themselves 
together before his mental eye in the aspect 
of a finished volume — of something definitely 
over and done with. 

There was warm spring in the London 
air, and at first the vague feeling of unrest 
impressed him as a part of the general 
vernal effect. The device of taking a stroll 
through the parks, to note the early flowers 
and the wonderful infancy of leafage among 
the trees, seemed at the outset to fit this 
new mood that was upon him. Then 
abruptly he wearied of nature and turned 


271 


GLORIA MUNDI 


his back upon it, driving in a hansom to his 
club. Here there was no one whom he 
knew, or at least cared to speak with. He 
sat for a time in the billiard-room, watching 
with profound inattention the progress of a 
game he knew nothing about. From this he 
wandered into the library, where some 
fierce-faced old gentlemen slept peacefully 
in armchairs about the alcoves. The sound 
of their breathing vexed him ; he pre- 
tended to himself that otherwise he would 
have found solace in a book. The whim 
seized him to go home to his chambers, 
and have tea there comfortably in gown 
and slippers, and finish a novel Lady Milly 
Poynes had induced him to begin weeks 
before. 

Once in his own easy-chair, the romance 
lying opened beside him, he put back his 
head, stretched his feet and yawned. He 
left untasted the tea which Falkner brought 
in ; with fingers interlaced behind his neck 
he stared up at the blue of the sky through 
his window in formless rumination. 

His earlier glimpses of London were dim 
enough memories now. The town had 
been described by his cousin Lingfield as 
empty when he arrived, and after a few 
days of desultory sight-seeing, he had been 
carried off to the earl of Chobham’s place in 
272 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Derbyshire. Here, among people who be- 
haved like kindly kinsmen to the young 
new-comer, yet failed to arouse much inter- 
est in his mind, he learned to shoot well 
enough to escape open protests by the auto- 
cratic head gamekeeper, and to keep his seat 
in the saddle after a fashion of his own. 
These acquirements stood him in good stead 
at the four or five other country houses to 
which the amiable Lingfield in due course 
led him. Without them, meager as they 
were, he would have been in a sorry plight 
indeed. They provided him with a certain 
semblance of justification for his presence 
among people who seemed incapable of amus- 
ing themselves or their guests in any other 
way. There were always ladies, it was true, 
and it was generally manifest to him that he 
might spend his time with them if he chose, 
but after a few tentative experiments he fell 
back upon the conviction that he did not 
know how to talk to English ladies. He 
drifted somehow through these months of 
hospitable entertainment, feeling that he 
had never known before what loneliness 
could mean. 

When, at Christmas, he went to spend 
another fortnight with Emanuel, he had it 
in his heart to confess to disappointment, 
and even depression. He had not thus far 


273 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fitted at all into the place which had been 
prepared for him, and he looked forward, 
with wistful eagerness, as he journeyed 
westward, to the balm of sympathy and 
tender comprehension with which Kathleen 
and Emanuel, dear people that they were, 
would soothe and heal his wounded self- 
consciousness. Somehow, the opportunity 
of unburdening his troubled mind, however, 
did not come to him. There were other 
guests, including Lord Julius, and such 
exceptional attention was devoted on the 
estates to elaborating the holiday festivities 
of the various villages, that no individual 
could hope to secure consideration for his 
own private emotions. It was sometimes 
suspected that Emanuel made so much of 
Christmas in his System, unconsciously no 
doubt, because the Jewish side of him felt 
the need of ostentation in its disavowal of 
theological prejudices. For whatever 
reason, the festival was observed here in a 
remarkable spirit. The little churches were 
embowered in holly and mistletoe, and 
were the scenes of numerous ornate services. 
There were processions, merry-makings, 
midnight visitatons of the “waits,” concerts 
and dances throughout the week, and only 
the strictly necessary work of the community 
was performed meanwhile. On New Year’s 


274 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Day the rejoicings culminated in a chil- 
dren’s carnival from one end of the property 
to the other, with big trees laden with lights 
and gifts in the German fashion, and exhi- 
bitions of the magic lantern, and other 
juvenile delights. The fortnight passed, 
and Christian returned to London, as has 
been said, without having anything like the 
intimate talk he had expected. Both Kath- 
leen and Emanuel had seemed pleased with 
him; they had noted with approving com- 
ment his progress in the use of idiomatic 
English, and his rapid assimilation of the 
manners and bearing of those about him; 
they had heard none but welcome reports of 
him from outside, and made clear to him 
their gratification at the fact. Their smile 
for him was as affectionate, their display of 
pleasure in his presence as marked, as ever, 
but he had the sense, none the less, of some- 
thing altered. Lord Julius bore him com- 
pany on his journey to London, and after a 
brief halt, took him away again for another 
fortnight, this time at Brighton. He was 
no more successful with the father, in the 
matter of helpful confidences, than he had 
been with the son. It was impossible to tell 
the strong, big, redoubtable old gentleman 
of what he felt to be his weaknesses. A 
kind of desponding pride possessed him, and 
275 


GLORIA MUNDI 


closed his lips. He was not happy, as he 
had supposed he would be, and he could not 
bring himself to feel that at any point the 
fault was his. It was the position that was 
incongruous. Yet how could he complain, 
or avow his discontent, without seeming an 
ingrate to the benefactors whose heart had 
been in the work of shaping and gilding that 
position for him? 

Parliament met this } r ear in January, and 
Christian saw now a London which he had 
not imagined to himself — for which nothing, 
indeed, had prepared him. There came all 
at once a great many invitations, and the 
young man, surprised and not a little dis- 
mayed, called Lord Lingfield to his assist- 
ance. The prospect unfolded to him by this 
accomplished professor of the proprieties 
was terrifying enough. At the end of a 
week Christian cried out that the reality was 
too much. But Lingfield could see no alter- 
native to going on. “You will get used to 
it soon enough, now that you have once taken 
the plunge,” he assured him. “There 
are certain things that a fellow has to do, 
you know, when he’s in London in the 
season, or even now, in what you may call 
the half season, unless he’s going to chuck 
the thing altogether.” Christian replied 
with excitement that this was precisely what 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


he wished to do. In his own mind he had 
already reached the point of debating 
whether he could honorably go on using the 
money placed to his credit at the bank, most 
of which was still there, if he fled from 
London, and even England. 

Lord Lingfield was a fine young man, 
irreproachable in attire and manners, who 
expected to do something in politics, and 
who regarded his duty both to the future 
which he hoped to create for himself, and to 
the immediate present which had been 
created for him, with conscientious gravity. 
He had never thought of lightening or evad- 
ing the tasks set before him ; he had no per- 
ception whatever of the possibility of 
making such things easier for others. He 
assured Christian with gentle solemnity that 
desertion was not to be mentioned, and that 
even mitigation was undesirable. “It has 
all been arranged for you,” he urged. 
“Upon my word, you are very lucky. You 
have been to two houses already where I 
never get asked except to luncheon, and 
here is a card here which I could hardly 
believe my eyes to see To trifle with such 
chances would be simple madness. You 
will get to have all London at your fingers’ 
ends, your very first season. Such a start 
as you’re likely to have, I’ve never seen in 


277 


GLORIA MUNDI 


my life. My dear fellow — you don’t under- 
stand what it means.” 

“But I’m tired to death!” groaned Chris- 
tian. “No doubt they are excellent people, 
but they weary me to the bone. The din- 
ners, the calls, the receptions, the dances — I 
have no talent whatever for these things. It 
is very kind of these people — but I know I 
am ridiculous in it all. I give them no 
pleasure, and God knows I receive none. 
Then why must it go on? For whose bene- 
fit is it? I swear to you, I would not mind 
the labor and fatigue, if it was any good 
that I was doing. Emanuel, for example, 
toils like a slave, but then his work has 
great results. But this of mine !” 

“Ah, yes,” interposed Lingfield, smilingly. 
“But Emanuel could never have made much 
running in London. He disputes with 
people too much, don’t you know. They 
don’t like that. And I think you make 
much too hard work of it all. There’s no 
need for you to talk, you know. It isn’t 
expected of you. And I don’t see why you 
can’t move quietly along, going everywhere, 
being seen at the right places, and being 
civil to everybody, and not worry yourself at 
all. That’s what you need, my dear boy — 
repose ! Let the other people do the worry. 
Now, of course, in a case like Dicky West- 
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GLORIA MUNDI 

land’s it’s different. He has to be amusing 
and useful, or he wouldn’t get asked. But 
you are not on all fours with him at all. 
To tell the truth — no doubt it’ll sound 
strange to you, but it is the truth all the 
same — it’s better form for you not to be 
amusing, or brilliant, or that sort of thing. 
Fellows in your place don’t go in for it, you 
know. ’ ’ 

Christian sighed, and chafing at the neces- 
sity of submission, still submitted. 

Now, as he lay back in his chair, the 
retrospect was augmented by six other 
weeks, in which he had passively yielded to 
what Lingfield had assured him was the 
inevitable. He had dined out almost every- 
night, and had made countless calls. It 
seemed to him that he must have met every- 
body in this huge metropolis who had a pair 
of shoulders or possessed a dress coat. He 
yawned at the thought of them. 

Was he not himself to blame for this? At 
Christmas time he had been quite confident 
in answering “no” to this question; now he 
did not feel so sure about it. At one place 
or another he had come into contact with 
most of the members of the government, 
and with many of those distinguished states- 
men on the opposite bench who, by the 
grace of the genial British electorate, would 


279 


GLORIA MUNDI 


be ministers next time. He had talked with 
eminent artists, eminent scientists, eminent 
writers, eminent soldiers and sailors, and 
watched them and listened to them as they 
sat over their cigars, or moved about among 
the ladies in the drawing-rooms. Hostesses 
whose cordial good will toward him seemed 
equaled only by their capable control over 
others, had said to him time and time again : 
“If there is any one you want to know, tell 
me.” The phrase lingered in his mind as a 
symbol of his position. He had merely to 
mention his wish, like some lucky person of 
the fables who possessed a talisman. It 
could not be said that he had used his magic 
power foolishly or perversely. He had 
followed in dutiful, painstaking solicitude 
the path marked out for him by his advisers. 
He had done the best that was in him to do ; 
he had gone wherever Lingfield bade him 
go ; he had loyally kept awake late at night ; 
he had smiled and bowed and spoken affable 
words; he had fulfilled punctually all the 
engagements imposed upon him. What 
was more, he could no longer pretend that 
he made a failure of the thing; it was 
known to him that he had created a pleas- 
ant impression upon London, and that 
people liked him. 

For all that, he could not feel that in turn 

280 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he liked these people. Among those of 
whom he had seen the most, was there any 
whom he profoundly desired ever to see 
again? He passed some random figures in 
mental review, and suffered them to vanish 
without thrusting forth any tentacle of 
thought to detain them. They had not 
entered his real life ; they meant nothing to 
him. Positively he was as much alone in 
London to-day as he had been when he first 
set foot in it. Indeed, was he not the poorer 
to-day by all those lost illusions and joyous, 
ardent hopes now faded to nothingness? In 
return for these departed treasures, he had 
only empty hands to show — and a jaded, 
futilely mutinous, empty mind as well. 

The soft, equable tinkle of the door-bell 
caught his ear, but scarcely arrested his 
attention. Perhaps unconsciously the sound 
served to polarize his thoughts, for suddenly 
it became apparent to him that he was in 
revolt. All this intolerable social labor was 
ended for him — definitely and irrevocably 
ended. He would not dine at another 
house ; he would burn forthwith his basket 
of cards, and the little book with its foolish 
record of ladies’ days “at home.” 

He sat up and sipped at his lukewarm 
tea, with the glow of a new resolve on his 
face. 


281 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Palkner — a smooth-mannered, assiduous, 
likable man of middle age whom Emanuel 
had given him from his own household — 
entered the room to announce a caller. A 
brisk, alert tread on the polished hall floor 
behind him cut into his words, so that 
Christian did not catch them. He rose, and 
looked inquiringly. 

For an instant, he felt that he was not glad 
to see the person who came in. It was a 
young man of about his age, tall and fair, 
and handsome in a buoyant, bright-faced 
way of his own. His blue eyes sparkled 
cheerfully into Christian’s doubtful glance, 
and he held out a hand as he advanced. 
Everybody in the world called him Dicky 
Westland, and for this opening moment 
Christian thought of him as preeminently 
typical of all the vanities and artificialities 
he was on the point of forswearing. 

“Not seedy, I hope?’’ the new-comer 
said in comment upon the other’s loose attire 
— and perhaps upon his dubious countenance 
as well. His voice had a musical vivacity 
in it which seemed to lighten the room. 
Christian, as he took the hand and shook his 
head, smiled a little. It began to occur to 
him that really he did like this young man. 

“No,” he replied, with a gesture toward a 
chair. “I’m all right. Only the whim 
282 


GLORIA MUNDI 


seized me — to come home and read a book. 
I got homesick, I think.” 

This statement, once in the air, seemed 
funny to the young men, and Dicky West- 
land laughed aloud. Christian, sitting down 
opposite his visitor, felt himself sharing his 
animation. '“It was good of you to come,” 
he declared, with a refreshed tone. “The 
truth is, I’m tired out. I am up too late. 
I run about too much.” 

“Yes, a fellow does get hipped,” assented 
Dicky. “But you are so tremendously 
regular, it doesn’t do you any harm. A 
days’ rest now and then, and you’re right as 
a trivet again. ’ ’ 

“Regular,” Christian repeated, musingly. 
He formed his lips to utter some reflection 
upon the theme, and then closed them again. 
“Will you have a cup of tea?” he asked, 
with the air of thinking of something else. 

The other shook his head, and preserved 
a posture of vivacious anticipation, as if 
Christian had made a literal promise to 
unburden his mind. The suggestion was so 
complete that Christian accepted it as a 
mandate. 

“I am glad you came,” he said, “because 
— well, because I have come to a conclusion 
in my mind, and I should like to put it into 
words for you — so that I can also hear it my- 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


self. I am resolved to go away — to leave 
London. ’ ’ 

Dicky lifted his brows in puzzled interro- 
gation. “How do you mean?” he asked. 

“I do not like it,” Christian replied, 
speaking more readily now, and enforcing his 
words with eager hands. Lingfield had 
cautioned him against this gesticulatory 
tendency, but the very consciousness that 
he was in rebellion brought his hands up- 
ward into the conversation. “It is not what 
I care for. I come into it too late, no doubt, 
to understand — appreciate it, properly. 
The people I meet — I have no feeling for 
them. It seems a waste of my time to sit 
with them, to stand and talk, to go about 
from one of their houses to another. At 
the end of it all, there is nothing. They 
have all thick shells on, and they are not 
going to let me get inside of them. And, 
moreover, if I did get inside, who can be 
sure there would be anything of value there? 
It does not often look so to me, from the 
outside. But it is a waste of time and labor, 
and it does not amuse me in the least, and 
why should I pursue it?” 

“Quite right!” said Dicky. 

“Then you agree with me? — you ap- 
prove?” asked Christian, not concealing his 
surprise. 


284 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Of course I do. It’s awful rot,” the 
other affirmed. He observed his host 
silently for a space, and meanwhile, by a 
quite visible process, the familiar external 
elasticity, not to say flippancy, of his man- 
ner seemed to fall away from him. “With 
me, of course, ’ ’ he went on, almost gravely, 
“I have to do it. I must get my secretary- 
ship, or I can’t live. My relations could 
put me into the swim, but they can’t support 
me there indefinitely. I have only two 
aunts, you know — dear old things, they are 
— and they keep me going, but they have 
only life interests, and I fancy they have to 
scrape a little as it is. 

“So you see, ” pursued Dicky Westland, “I 
must help myself, and it’s only by knowing 
the right people, and being seen at the right 
places, that a fellow can bring anything off. 
For example, now: Lady Winsey is a 
distant cousin of mine, and she’s promised 
the aunts, you know, and there’s an old Sir 
Hogface Something-or-Other dodging about 
the place, who’s going to get a West Indian 
governorship in May, and Lady Winsey has 
not only had him at her house to dinner, 
where he could see me, but has contrived to 
throw me at him at three other houses. 
Next week I’m to go down to a closing meet 
in Berkshire, just because he’s to be there — 
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and that she arranged, too. And it’s all to 
get a place worth perhaps three hundred a 
year, with yellow fever thrown in — if it 
comes to anything at all. ” 

“Three hundred a year,” commented 
Christian, knitting his brows. “I still make 
pounds into francs to know what a sum 
means,” he explained, smilingly, after a 
moment. “Once I would have thought that 
a great fortune — and only a few months ago, 
too, at that. ’ ’ 

“Well, you see how it is,” said Dicky. “I 
mustn’t let any chance slip by. But if I 
stood in your shoes, dear God ! how I would 
chuck it all ! ” 

“But what would you do instead?” Chris- 
tian propounded this question sitting back 
in his chair, with the tips of his fingers joined, 
and a calm twinkle in his eye. He discovered 
himself feeling as if it were his companion 
who had made confessions and craved 
sympathy. 

Dicky looked into his hat, and pouted his 
lips in whimsical indecision. “What I mean 
is,” he explained at last — “my point was 
this — I hate the whole thing, and if I didn’t 
have to do it, why then I wouldn’t do it, d’ye 
see? I’d go about with nobody except the 
people I really cared about — my right-down, 
intimate friends. That’s the idea.” 

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“Ah — friends!” said Christian. “That is 
the word that sings in my ears ! ’ ’ 

He rose impulsively, and began walking 
about the room with a restless step. Now 
and again he halted briefly to look down 
upon his companion, to enforce with eyes as 
well as gesture some special thing in his 
talk. “Yes, friends!” he cried. “Tell me, 
you Dicky Westland, where are friends to 
be found? Have you some, perhaps? Then 
where did you come upon them? It is what 
I should like very much to know. Listen to 
me! I have been in England six months. 
I possess in England, say two — three — no, 
five friends — and all these came to me in 
my first week here. All but one belong to 
my family, so they were here, ready-made 
for me. But since that time, now that I 
am for myself, I have not gained one friend. 
Is there then something strange — what do I 
say — forbidding in me? Or no — it is non- 
sense for me to say that. It is the other way 
about. I have seen nobody who awakened 
voices within me. There has been no one 
who appealed to me as a friend should 
appeal. I live among a thousand rich and 
fine people who are as good to me as they 
know how to be — and ) r et I am as if I lived 
in a desert. And it is very cold — and lonely 
— and heartbreaking in this desert of mine!” 

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Westland looked at him, as he stood now 
in the pathetic abandonment of his perora- 
tion, with a contemplative squint in one eye. 

“I see what you mean,” he remarked 
finally. “You’ve been looking for flesh and 
blood, and you find only gun-metal.” He 
thrust out his lips a little, and gave further 
consideration to the problem. “There isn’t 
any need for you to go away, you know,” 
he added after a pause. “You can have any 
kind of life you like in London. It is all 
here, if you want it. But what is it that 
you do want?” 

Christian threw himself sidewise into his 
chair, and bent his head with a sigh. Then, 
with a new light in his eyes, he looked up. 
“You yourself said it” — he exclaimed — “to 
see only my true friends. That is my idea 
of life: To have a small circle of people 
whom I love very much, and to make con- 
stant opportunities to be with some of them 
— talking as we like to talk, going about 
together, making life happy for one another 
as we go along. All my youth, I envied 
rich people, because I thought that they used 
their wealth to command this greatest of 
delights. I imagined that if one had much 
money, then one could afford to soend his 
time only with his close, dear friends. But 
what I discover is that they do something 
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entirely different They seem not to let 
friendship come into their lives at all. They 
desire only acquaintances, and of these the 
more they have the better, if they bear the 
proper cachet.” 

“It is the women,” said Dicky, senten- 
tiously. “They like the crowd, and the new 
faces. And what they like, of course they 
have. They run the whole show.” 

Christian nodded comprehension — then 
put out a hand to signalize a reservation. 
“I know women — here in England — who 
have a higher idea than this,” he declared, 
softly. 

“Of course, so we all do,” assented West- 
land. “There are a million splendid women, 
if one could only get at them. But it’s a 
sort of trades union, don’t you know. You 
don’t take the workmen you want, on your 
own terms; you take those the society gives 
you, and the terms are arranged for you. 
It’s like that with women. You meet some 
awfully jolly girls now and then, but they 
are not in the least degree their own masters. 
If you try to get to know them well, either 
they’re frightened, and pull back into their 
shells, or you’re headed off by their mothers. 
But,” he added upon reflection — “of course 
it’s different with you. ” 

“At least I am not interested,” said Chris- 
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tian, wearily. The advice of Kathleen had 
produced upon his mind an even greater 
effect, perhaps, than he imagined. He had 
encountered, by the dozen, extremely beauti- 
ful and engaging girls, whose charm should 
have been enhanced in his eyes by the 
dignity and even grandeur of their surround- 
ings. But an impalpable yet efficient barrier 
had stood always between them and him. 
If they exhibited reserve, he was too shy for 
words. If they expanded toward him with 
smiles or any freedom of demeanor, he 
recalled instantly the warning of Emanuel’s 
wife, and that was fatal. “I have not cared 
for any of them, ’ ’ he reaffirmed. 

“Oh!” cried Westland of a sudden, his 
comely, boyish face beaming with the 
thought that had come to him. ‘ ‘ How stupid 
of me! I’d forgotten what I came for — and 
I’m not sure it doesn’t precisely fill the bill. 
Are you doing anything to-night? Will you 
come with me to the Hanover Theater at 
midnight? It’s the five -hundredth per- 
formance of ‘Pansy Blossoms’ — and there’s 
to be supper on the stage and a dance. I 
don’t think you’ve seen much of that sort of 
thing, have you?” 

Christian shook his head, and regarded his 
companion doubtfully. “Nothing at all of 
it, ’ ’ he said, slowly. “ But it does not attract 

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GLORIA MUNDI 


me very much, I’m afraid. You would 
better take some one else. I should be a fish 
out of water there. The people of the 
theaters — they are not congenial to me — that 
is, I do not think they would be.” 

“But, hang it all, man, how do you know 
till you’ve tried?” Dicky put a little worldly 
authority into his tone as he proceeded. 
“You mustn’t mind my saying it to you — it 
is you who make your own desert, as you 
call it, for yourself. If you say in advance 
that you know you won’t like this sort of 
person, or that, how are you ever going to 
form any friendships?” 

Christian received the remonstrance with 
meekness. “You do not quite understand 
me, ’ ’ he said, amiably enough. ‘ ‘ I have some 
work to do in the world, and I don’t think 
that actresses and actors would help me 
much to do it. The young men who run 
after them do not seem, somehow, to do 
much else. It is only a prejudice I have; 
it applies only to myself. If others feel 
differently, why, I have not a word to 
say. ’ ’ 

“No, you must come !” Westland declared, 
rising. “It’s nonsense for you not to see 
that side of things. My dear fellow, it’s as 
respectable as the Royal Academy— or 
Madame Tussaud’s. Are you dining any- 


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GLORIA MUNDI 


where? Then I’ll run home and dress, and 
I’ll drive round here for you. We’ll dine 
together, and then look in at some of the 
halls. Shall I say seven? It gives us more 
time over our dinner.” 

Christian accepted, with a rueful little 
smile, his committal to the enterprise. “You 
must not mind if I come away early,” he 
said, getting to his feet in turn. 

The other laughed at him. ‘‘My dear 
man, you’ll never want to come away at all. 
But no, seriously — it’s just the kind of thing 
you want. It’ll amuse you, for one thing — 
and deuce take it, you’ll be young only once 
in your life. But more than that — here you 
are swearing that you’ll do no more social 
work at all, and you don’t know in the least 
what other resources are open to you. It 
isn’t alone actresses that you meet at a place 
like this, but all sorts of clever people who 
know how to get what there is out of life. 
That is what you yourself want to do, isn’t 
it? Well, it’ll do you no harm, to say the 
least, to see how they go about it.” 

‘‘Very likely,” Christian replied, as the 
other turned. ‘‘I will be ready at seven.” 

He followed him to the door, and into the 
hallway. ‘‘Mind,” he said, half jokingly, 
half gravely, as he leaned over the banister, 
‘‘I have not altogether promised. When 


GLORIA MUNDI 


midnight comes, I may lose my courage 
altogether. ’ * 

“Ah, it’s that kind of timidity that storms 
every fortress in its path,” Dicky called up 
to him from the stairway. 


293 


















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9 







* 


S 








\ 





S 








CHAPTER XIV 

The two young men dined at the Cafe 
Royal. “It’s as good a kitchen as there is in 
London, and in the matter of people it isn’t 
such a tiresome repetition of those one meets 
everywhere else as Willis’s or the Prince’s. 
To see the same shoulders and the same 
necks, night after night — a fellow gets tired 
of it. ” 

To this explanation by Dicky of his choice, 
as they rolled forward in their hansom, 
Christian made no direct response. After a 
little he said: “Very soon now, I am going 
to do something that seems to have been in 
my mind for months. Perhaps I have only 
thought of it since this afternoon : I cannot be 
sure. But I am going to do it — I am going 
to know for myself what the real London 
and the real England are like. A thousand 
gentlemen in black clothes and silk hats, a 
thousand ladies with low-cut dresses and 
feathers in their hair — all thinking and talk- 
ing about themselves and their own little 
affairs — that does not mean London. And a 
few large houses in the country, where these 


295 


GLORIA MUNDI 


same people sj^nd a few months riding after 
the hounds and shooting tame birds and 
wearying each other with idle, sleepy talk — 
that does not represent England.” 

“Doesn’t it!” cried Westland. “I should 
say that’s just what it did, worse luck!” 

“No, no!” protested Christian. “I don’t 
want to be told that it does — for then I 
should want to go away altogether. No — 
there is the other thing, and I am going to 
find it out, and see it and know it. When 
all those years of my boyhood and youth I 
was so proud of being an Englishman, it 
was not this empty, valueless life of the West 
End, or the chase of foxes and birds in the 
country, that I longed for, and nourished 
pride in.” 

“Oh, but they do other things, you know,” 
laughed Dicky. “They are in Parliament, 
some of them, or they are at the bar, or in 
the Services, or they manage estates or are 
directors in companies, and that sort of 
thing. And some of them go in a lot for 
charities, and work on committees and 
organize things, you know. You’d hardly 
believe how much of that most of the women 
let themselves in for. ’ ’ 

“That is not what I mean,” said the other, 
rather abruptly. “To me all that is not 
worth the snap of a finger, ’ ’ and he empha- 
296 


GLORIA MUNDI 


sized his words by a gesture with the hand 
which rested on the door of the hansom. 

At an advanced stage of the dinner, the 
young men came to the subject again. In 
reply to a random inquiry Christian said that 
his grandfather, the duke, as far as he knew, 
was neither worse nor better in health than 
he had been all winter. “I have not been 
to Caermere since my first visit," he went 
on. “I am really living upon a programme 
arranged for me, I should think, by a com- 
mittee of my relations. Lord Lingfield is 
my active bear-leader. He conducts me, or 
sends me, wherever it has been decided that I 
shall go. It was not deemed important that 
I should go to Caermere again — and so I 
have not gone. Voilatout! If I had been 
free to myself, I think I should have gone." 

“It must be an awfully jolly place, from 
the pictures I’ve seen of it," said Westland. 

“ Jolly! ” cried Christian. “My dear 
creature, it is a grave, a mausoleum, a place 
of skulls and dead men’s bones! You have 
never seen such a family vault in all your 
days. When I even begin to think of under- 
taking the task of brightening it into life 
again, I grow dizzy. The immensity of the 
work unnerves me. And now I do not know 
if I shall ever put my hand to it. The coun- 
try-gentleman idea — which you make so 
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GLORIA MUNDI 

4 

much of in England — it does not appeal to 
me. It is too idle — too purposeless. Of 
course my cousin Emanuel, he makes a 
terrible toil of it — and does some wonderful 
things, beyond doubt. But after all, what 
does it come to? He helps people to be 
extremely fine who without him would only 
be tolerably fine. But I have the feeling 
that one should help those who are not fine 
at all — who have never had the chance to be 
fine, who do not know what it means. 
Emanuel’s wife — oh, a very lovely character 
— she said to me that they disliked coming 
up to town, the sight of the London poor dis- 
tressed them so much. Well, that is the 
point — if I am to help anybody at all, it is 
the London poor that I should try to help. 
Emanuel’s plan is to give extra bones, and 
teach new tricks, to dogs already very com- 
fortable. My heart warms to the dogs with- 
out collars, the homeless and hungry devils 
who look for bones in the gutters.” 

“Oh, you’re going in for settlements and 
that sort of thing,” commented Dicky. “I 
hear that is rather disappointing work. If 
you don’t take the sporting papers at the 
reading-room they say the men won’t come 
at all. Slingsby Chetwynd was awfully keen 
on the thing. He went down to stop a whole 
week — at Shoreditch or Houndsditch or the 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


Isle of Dogs, or somewhere like that — and a 
woman smashed his hat in, and he fell into 
a cellar — and he was jolly glad to get back 
again the same night. ’ ’ 

Christian was pursuing thoughts of his 
own. The wine was admirable — as indeed 
it should have been considering the pains 
Dicky had been at, with pursed lips and lifted 
eyebrows, in the selection of it — and Chris- 
tian had found an unaccustomed pleasure in 
its aromatic, sub-acid taste. He had drunk 
rather freely of it, and was satisfied with 
himself for having done so. He leaned back 
in his chair now, and watching the golden 
fountain of bubbles forever streaming up- 
ward in his glass, mused upon welcome new 
impulses within him toward the life of a free 
man. 

“None the less,” he remarked, indifferent 
to the irrelevancy of his theme, “I should 
have liked to go to Caermere during the 
winter. I am annoyed with myself now 
that I did not go — whether it was arranged 
for me or not. There is a lady there for 
whom I felt great sympathy. I had expected 
to be of service to her long before this — but 
I am of service to no one. She is a cousin — 
no doubt you know her — Lady Cressage.” 

“But she is in London,” put in Westland. 
“I only know her a little, but Lady Selton 


299 


GLORIA MUNDI 


used to be by way of seeing a good deal of 
her. She told me last week that she was in 
town — taken a little flat somewhere — Vic* 
toria Street way, I think. She doesn’t go in 
for being very smart, you know. Why — 
yes — of course she’s your cousin by marriage. 
Awfully pretty woman she was. Gad ! how 
well I remember her season ! All the fellows 
went quite off their heads. How funny — 
that she should be your cousin!” 

Christian took no note of his companion’s 
closing words, or of the tone in which they 
had been uttered. He scowled at the play- 
ful bubbles in his glass, as he reflected that 
the news of her arrival in London ought not 
to have come to him in this roundabout, 
accidental way. Why did none of his own 
people tell him? Or still more to the point, 
why had not she herself told him? He really 
had given her only an occasional and sporadic 
thought, during these past four or five 
months. Now, as he frowned at his wine, it 
seemed to him that his whole winter had 
been burdened with solicitude for her. Or 
no, “burdened” was an ungracious word, 
and false to boot.' He would say “mel- 
lowed” or “enriched” instead. 

“You must find out for me” — he began, 
and then, upon a second thought born of 
pique, checked himself. “Or do not mind — • 


300 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it is of no consequence. I shall hear as a 
matter of course.” He called for the bill 
with a decision in his voice which seemed 
full of warning that the topic was exhausted. 

Westland could not help observing the fat 
roll of crackling white notes which the other 
drew from his pocket. If they were all of 
the smallest denomination, they must still 
represent something like his whole year’s 
allowance. The general understanding that 
Christian’s unfamiliarity with English ways 
excused, and even invited, wise admonition 
from his friends, prompted him to speak. 

“That’s rather a lot to carry about with 
you, old man, ’ ’ he said, in gentle expostula- 
tion. 

“Oh, I like it!” Christian declared, with 
shining eyes. He snapped the elastic band 
about the roll, with an air of boyish delight 
in the sound, as he returned it to his pocket. 
“If you knew the years in which I counted 
my sous!” 

It was nearly ten o’clock when they left. 
Beginning with the Pavilion, they went to 
four or five music halls, only to find that 
there were no seats to be had. “Why, of 
course it’s the boat-race,” exclaimed Dicky 
at last. “Stupid of me to have forgotten it. 
I say, I ought to have come for you this 
morning, and taken you up the river to see 


301 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it. It’s worth seeing — for once. I wonder 
Lingfield did not arrange it for yon.” 

“Oh, several people asked me to join their 
parties,” Christian replied. “But it did not 
attract me. The athletics here — they rather 
annoy me. It is as if people thought of 
nothing else. And to have students at the 
universities consumed with the idea — that is 
specially unpleasant to my mind. You must 
remember — I am a teacher by profession.” 

“We’ll go back to the Empire,” Westland 
decided. “Ever been there? Well, it’s worth 
seeing, too — perhaps more than once. The 
Johnnies ’ll be out in extraordinary force, 
I’m afraid, but then you ought to see them 
too, I suppose. It takes all sorts to make a 
world — and the world is what you’ve come 
out to look at. Let me get the tickets — or, 
well, if you insist — ask for the promenade. ’ ’ 

It was indeed a novel spectacle, which 
smote and confused his eyes, rather than 
revealed itself to them, when Christian 
found himself inside. The broad, low, 
rounded promenade was so crowded with 
people that at first sight walking about 
seemed wholly impracticable, but Dicky 
stepped confidently into the jumbled throng 
and began moving through it, apparently 
with ease, and the other followed him. They 
made their way to the end, where a man in 


302 


GLORIA MUNDI 


uniform guarded a staircase ; then, turning, 
they elbowed along back to the opposite end 
of the half-circle. This gained, there was 
nothing in Dicky’s thoughts, seemingly, but 
to repeat the performance indefinitely. 
Their progress was of a necessity slow. On 
the inner side a dense wall of backs and high 
hats rendered hopeless any notion of seeing 
the stage below. Christian, struggling after 
his guide, wondered what else there was to 
see. 

After a time it became obvious to him that 
the women who formed so large an element 
of the lazily shifting crowd were also the 
occasion of its being. They walked about, 
looking the men in the face with a cold, free, 
impassive scrutiny upon which, even if he 
had never seen it before, intuition would 
have fixed a label for him. Other women, 
from the plush seats on the outer edge of the 
circle, bent upon the whole moving mass of 
promenaders the same stoical, inscrutable 
gaze. The range of age among them did not 
seem extended to his uninformed glance. 
In years they were apparently all about 
alike. Some, indeed, had fresher faces and 
smoother skins than others, but when the 
eyes were considered a certain indefinable 
equality was insisted upon in them all. 
Their toilets were often striking in effect, 


303 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and especially their hats — exaggerating botl 
in breadth of brim, and in the height anc 
bulk of the edifice of plumes above, the 
prevalent fashion in such matters — were 
notable to the spectator ; but Christian found 
himself, upon consideration, more interested 
in their eyes than in anything else. 

A certain stony quality in this stereotyped 
gaze of theirs suggested a parallel to his 
memory; he had seen precisely that same 
cool, unruffled, consciously unconscious stare 
in princesses who had looked at him without 
beholding him in the far-away days of his 
life about the hotels of the Riviera. It was 
very curious, he thought — this incongruous 
resemblance. But a little closer analysis 
showed that the likeness was but partial. 
These ladies of the promenade could look 
about them with the imperturbability of 
princesses, it was true, but only so long as 
they saw nothing which concerned them 
immediately. Nay, now he could discern 
beneath the surface of this passionless 
perlustration a couched vigilance of atten- 
tion, which ever and again flashed upper- 
most with electric swiftness. When this 
mercurial change came, one saw the tem- 
perament mapped out like a landscape under 
the illumination of lightning. There 
gleamed forth expectancy, dread, joy, 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


irritability, fun, dislike or wistful hope — 
whatever the mood of the instant yielded — 
with a force of intensity almost startling. 
Then, as quickly as it came, the look 
might vanish; even if it flickered on, the 
briefest interval of repose brought back 
again the watchful, dispassionate, hardened 
regard. 

“Have you had enough of this?” Dicky 
asked, with an implication of weariness in 
his tone. 

Christian, halting, took slow and bewil- 
dered cognizance of the fact that he had 
been going from one end of the promenade 
to the other for a very long time. Insensibly, 
at some period of the experience, he had 
taken the lead from his companion, and had 
been dragging him about in his wake. 

“It is very interesting,” was the vague 
excuse he offered to Dicky, and even more to 
himself. 

A sofa just beside them was for the 
moment unoccupied. Christian seated him- 
self with the air of one physically tired out. 
“Ought we not to order drinks?” he asked 
his companion, who stood over him, looking 
down somewhat doubtfully. 

“Oh, dear, no — not here!” Dicky replied, 
with conviction. “It’s nearly closing time 
— and we’ll go over to the club for half an 
305 


GLORIA MUNDI 


hour — where we know our tipple. Shall we 
run along now?” 

“No — sit down here, ” said Christian. He 
spoke with the authority of a profound 
emotion, that glowed in his eyes and 
quivered on his lips. Westland obeyed him, 
pretending to a nonchalance which his 
mistrustful glance belied. 

“This is all very extraordinary to me,” 
Christian continued, in a low, strenuous 
voice. He spoke with even more than his 
wonted fluency. “It catches hold of me. It 
fills my mind with new thoughts. There is 
something in the very air here — ” 

“Musk and cigarette smoke,” interposed 
Dicky, lightly. Then he saw that levity 
struck a false note. 

“Pah !” the other jerked forth, impatiently. 
“Don’t talk like that! It is the most terrible, 
the most touching, the most inspiring thing 
I have seen in my life. I breathe in a new 
ambition here, out of this atmosphere. We 
were talking of the London poor. I thought 
they made the loudest appeal — but they are 
nothing beside this /” He spread his thin, 
nervous hand out as he spoke, and swept it in 
a comprehensive gesture over the spectacle 
before them. “These are my sisters — my 
unhappy and dishonored sisters, scorned and 
scornful — oh, yes, they are all my sisters!” 

306 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“But fortunately they don’t know it,” 
urged Dicky, surveying the ladies with 
pouting lips and half-closed eyes. “For 
God’s sake, don’t mention it to them.” 

Christian turned round, with one knee on 
the sofa, and claimed his companion’s atten- 
tion. “I wanted to be able to add you to 
my very little list of friends,” he said, 
gravely. “All the evening I have had 
that in my mind — and it may be something 
else, too. But if you cannot understand 
me, now, when I tell you how all this moves 
me — and if you only care to mock at what 
I say — why, then, it is not needful to say 
more. ” 

Dicky faced about in turn, and regarded 
him with a puzzled glance, from which he was 
at pains to exclude all signs of frivolity. 
“But you haven’t told me how it moves you 
at all,” he said, vaguely. 

“Oh, how,” repeated Christian with 
hesitation. “It is not easy to say just how. 
But I am devoured by a great compassion. 
I could weep tears at the heart-misery I see 
here. They shout in the papers and wring 
their hands over the massacre of Armenians 
— but right here — this thing — is it not more 
£ruel and dreadful still? Here there is no 
question of race hatreds and religious 
hatreds, but just the cold, implacable 
307 


GLORIA MUNDI 


pressure of poverty on human souls, crush- 
ing them and sinking them in shame. ” 

“Oh, that’s only a part of the story — not 
such a deuce of a big part either, ” urged the 
other, gently. “Don’t get so excited about 
it, my dear fellow. It is by no means a new 
thing. And wait till you know more about 
it, and have thought it over — and then, if 
you feel that there is anything you can do, 
why, take my word for it, it will still be 
here. It won’t disappear in the meanwhile. 
You’ll still be in time.” 

Christian regarded him wistfully, and with 
a mild, faint smile. “You would never 
enter into my feelings about this, ’ ’ he said, 
softly. “We are made differently. It 
strikes you as strange, does it not, that a 
young man, coming into contact with this 
for the first time, should be filled only with 
the yearning to help these poor girls, and do 
good to them? It surprises you? It is some- 
thing new to you, n’est ce pas?” 

Dicky grinned withiij decorous limits. “My 
dear boy,’’ he declared, confidentially, “so 
far from being new, it’s the oldest thing 
in the world. Every young fellow worth 
his salt that I have ever known, or that any- 
body’s ever known, has swelled himself out 
with precisely these same reform sentiments. 
In this very promenade here I have witnessed 
308 


GLORIA MUNDI 


at least a dozen attacks like yours. And 
don’t think I am jeering at the thing. It is 
a very beautiful and generous spirit indeed, 
and I admire it awfully, I assure you — only — 
only, as one gets to know his way about a trifle 
better, he sees that there isn’t so much in 
it as he thought there was. And that’s 
what I was trying to say to you. Don’t let 
your first impulses run away with you. If 
the subject interests you, appeals to you, 
very well; get to understand it. You will 
find that it is more complicated, perhaps, 
than you think. But when you know it all, 
why, then you can do what you like.” 

Some of the light seemed to have been 
turned out. A definitive blare rolled up from 
the orchestra below ; the throng of prome- 
naders, though still informed by the most 
leisurely of moods, was converging upon 
the door of exit. The two young men arose. 

Christian suddenly yawned. ‘‘I am tired 
— and depressed,” he said, wearily. ‘‘I 
think I will ask you to let me go home. ” 

“Nonsense!” said Dicky, promptly. 
“We’ll go to the club, and get a pick-up, 
and then you shall see something that won’t 
depress you. I grant you this is rather 
melancholy. God knows why we came,” 

An hour or more later, emerging from a 


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GLORIA MUNDI 


confusing sequence of narrow passages and 
winding ascents and descents, Christian 
followed Westland out through a groove of 
painted canvas to the stage of the Hanover 
Theater. 

He had never seen a theater from this 
point of view, and the first few minutes of 
his scrutiny — here where he stood at the 
wings, while Dicky looked after the coats 
and hats — were full of pleased interest. The 
huge dusky space of the galleries overhead, 
strange and formidable in its dark bulk like 
some giant balloon, was very impressive. 
By contrast, the stage itself seemed to give 
out light. A long riband of a table stretched 
across the back, and down the two sides, and 
about this clustered many people ; shining 
shirt-fronts and bald heads, pale shimmering 
dresses and white shoulders, the glitter of 
napery and plates and glasses — all was 
radiant under the powerful electric glow from 
above. He could see now, in the half- 
shadows down beyond the footlights, two 
or three rows of heads of people sitting in 
the front stalls. To his fancy these detached 
heads appeared to belong to an order of 
beings quite distinct from those on the stage. 
He wondered if actors felt their audiences 
to be thus remote and aloof from themselves. 

“We can push our way in at the other end 
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GLORIA MUNDI 


— there’s less of a crush there,” he heard 
Dicky say to him. He followed his guide 
across the stage, through groups of convers- 
ing guests who had brought out their sand- 
wiches and glasses from the throng, and 
came eventually to the table itself. Some 
one held out a bottle toward him, and he 
lifted a glass to be filled. From under some 
other stranger’s arm he extricated a plate, 
containing something in gelatine, he knew 
not what. In straightening himself he pushed 
against a person unexpectedly close behind 
him. 

Half turning, with the murmur of an 
apology upon his lips, his eyes encountered 
those of a lady, who seemed to know him, 
and to be smiling at him. 

“How d’ye do?” this lady said to him. 
There could be no doubt about the cordiality 
of her tone. Her left hand was occupied 
with a champagne glass and a fan, but her 
right was being lifted to him, almost against 
his breast, in greeting. He gazed at her in 
smiling perplexity, the while he signed that 
both his own hands were filled. 

“You don’t know me from Adam,” she 
said to him, cheerfully. “But I’m your 
cousin — Cora Torr, you know.” 


311 





















t 














CHAPTER XV 


“You’ve altered so much since I saw you! 
It was odds against my recognizing you at 
all, ’ ’ declared Cora, beaming forth into con- 
versation before Christian had fairly grasped 
the significance of her identity. 

‘ * I should never have believed they would 
make such an Englishman out of you, in just 
these few months. Let’s see — it was 
October, wasn’t it? Yes, of course — the 
First.” She showed her beautiful teeth in 
a flash of gaiety. “The pheasants weren’t 
the only ones that got hit that day. But 
bygones are bygones. . . . And how do you 
like London? How do you find it compares 
with Paris? I always maintain that there’s 
more real life here, if you know where to 
look for it. . . . But I am afraid you’re 
not glad to see me.” 

“There you are wrong. I am glad to see 
you,” Christian replied, with deliberation. 
He made his words good by thrusting his 
plate back upon the table and shaking her 
gloved hand. There was a frank smile in 
his eyes. 


313 


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“Get my glass filled again, ’ ’ she suggested 
— “and your own too — and let’s get out of 
the way. These people push as if they had 
had nothing to eat since Christmas. Of all 
the hogs in evening clothes, the stage-supper 
hog is the worst. Well, and how have you 
been, all this time?” 

They had moved across the stage to the 
entrance, and paused near it in a little nook 
of momentary isolation. Christian made 
conventional answer to her query, and to 
other remarks of hers calliiig for no earnest 
attention, the while he concentrated his 
thoughts upon the fact that they were 
actually standing here together, talking like 
old friends. 

It was sufficiently surprising, this fact, but 
even more remarkable was the satisfaction 
he himself was getting from it. There was 
no room for doubt; he really enjoyed being 
with her. There was no special need to 
concern himself with what she was saying. 
She hardly paused for replies, and seemed 
not to mind in the least the automatic 
character of the few which came to her. 
He had only to smile a little, and nod, and 
let his eyes glow pleasurably, and she went 
blithely on. The perception came suddenly 
to him that he had been sorry also for her. 
Indeed, now that he reflected upon it, had 
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not hers been the most cruel misfortune of 
all? The memory of the drawn, agonized 
mask of a face she had shown, over the tea- 
table in the conservatory at Caermere, rose in 
his mind’s vision. He looked up at the strips 
of canvas and lamps above, with half-closed 
eyes, recalling in reverie the details of this 
suffering face; then he turned abruptly to 
confront her, and observe afresh the happy 
contrast she presented to-night. 

Cora was looking away for the instant, and 
apparently conveying by lifted eyebrows and 
shakes of the head a message of some sort to 
some person on the bustling stage unknown 
to him. He glanced instinctively in the 
direction of her signal, but gained no infor- 
mation — and indeed realized at once that he 
was not in search of any. Of course, she 
knew everybody here, and would be 
exchanging nods and smiles of recognition 
all the evening. It occurred to him to wonder 
if her husband, that Captain Edward of 
unpleasant memory, was on the stage, but 
he had the power to put the thought promptly 
out of his mind. It was only Cora that he 
was interested in, and that he wanted to talk 
with. And here she was, once more looking 
into his face, and restoring by her smile his 
almost jocund pleasure in the situation. 

He still maintained the r61e of listener, 
315 ' 


GLORIA MUNDI 

but it grew increasingly clear to him that 
when his turn came he would have a good 
deal to say, and that he would say it well. 
He had never spoken on familiar terms with 
an actress before — and the experience put 
him wonderfully at his ease. He felt that 
he could say things to her ; already he 
delighted in the assurance of her receptivity, 
her immunity from starched nonsense, her 
genial and comforting good fellowship. As 
he continued to look at her, and to smile, he 
remembered what people always said, or 
rather took for granted, about ladies on the 
stage. The consciousness shaped itself 
within him that she offered a timely and 
felicitous compromise — a sort of bridge 
between those formal, “gun-metal” women 
of society whom he desired never to see 
again, and those hapless, unblest creatures 
of the Empire. 

Presently she took his arm, and they moved 
round to the stalls in front, and found seats a 
little apart from any one else. A large num- 
ber of young ladies, in white or light-hued 
evening dresses, were seated about in the rows 
before them, and Cora pointed out this one 
and that among them to Christian. “That is 
Dolly Montressor — the dancer, you know — 
her photos are all the rage just now. The 
girl in pink, over there — just turning round 
316 


GLORIA MUNDI 


— she is the one who sued young Concannon 
for breach of promise. Yon must remember. 
Her lawyers put the bailiffs in for what she 
owed them, after they’d taken everything 
the jury gave her, and she dressed the bailiffs 
in livery and had them wait at the table at 
a big supper she gave. The little thick- 
nosed dark man there — next but one to her — 
he drew a check for the supper and the bailiffs 
too. You see the small, thin girl with the 
tomato-colored hair — she didn’t bring her 
suit into court — one isn’t fox-headed for 
nothing. She settled outside at the last 
minute — the Lord Carmody case, you know 
— and no one’s ever heard a whisper of any 
supper she ever gave. It isn’t at all her 
line. She puts it all into South Africans; 
they say she’s good for thirty thousand 
pounds, if she’s got a penny. It isn’t bad, 
you know, on a salary of six quid, and only 
the pantomime season at that. Oh, there’s 
Peggy Wiltshire — just in the doorway. She’s 
the most remarkable woman in England. 
How old would you think she was? Forty? 
Why, my dear man, she was billed as a star 
in the old original Black Crook — just about 
the time I was born. She can’t be a minute 
under sixty. But look at her — the neck and 
shoulders of a girl ! Isn’t it amazing ! Why, 
she was knocking about town when your 


317 


GLORIA MUNDI 


father was a youngster — and here she is still 
going strong.” 

The tables were being cleared from the 
stage, and the fringe of gentlemen who 
remained hungry and thirsty was retiring 
slowly and with palpable reluctance toward 
the wings. Some sad-faced musicians 
emerged wearily from an unsuspected 
cave beneath the footlights, and exhibited 
their violins and flutes to the general gaze 
with an air of profound dejection. Their 
fiddle strings began to whine at one another, 
in a perfunctory and bad-tempered groping 
about for something they were expected to 
have in common. A stout man on the stage 
vigorously superintended the removal of the 
last table, and warned off with a compre- 
hensive gesture the lingering remnant of 
unsated raveners; then, turning, he lifted 
his hand. On the instant, some score and 
more of the young ladies in white and pale 
pinks and blues and lavenders rose from their 
front stalls, and moved toward the stage 
door at the left. They pressed forward like 
a flock of sheep — and with faces as listlessly 
vacant as any pasture could afford. Chris- 
tian observed their mechanical exit with a 
curling lip. 

“If these are the renowned beauties, whose 
fascinations turn the heads of all the young 

318 


GLORIA MUNDI 


men about town,” he confided to his com- 
panion, “then it says extremely little for the 
quality of what is inside those heads.” 

“Yes, isn’t it extraordinary!” she mused 
at him, eyeing the bevy of celebrities with a 
ruminating glance. “This must be some- 
where near the sixth or seventh lot of ’em 
that even I’ve seen passing through the 
turnstile, as you might say. Where do they 
all come from? — and good heavens! where 
do they all go to? It’s a procession that 
never stops, you know. You’d think there 
was a policeman, keeping it moving. You 
have these girls here — well, they’re the 
queens, just for the minute. They own the 
earth. Nothing in the world is too good for 
them. Very well: just behind them are 
some other girls, a few years younger. 
Goodness knows where they were to-night — 
in the back ranks of the ballets, perhaps, or 
doing their little turn at the Paragon or the 
Canterbury, or doing nothing at all — nothing 
but keeping their toes pointed in this direc- 
tion. And they are treading close on the 
heels of these queens you see here; and 
behind them are girls of sixteen or so, and 
behind them the little chits of ten and 
twelve — and they’re all pushing along — and 
in time each lot gets in front, out under the 
limelight, and has its little year on the 


319 


GLORIA MUNDI 


throne — and then gets shoved off to make 
room for the next. You might have seen 
two-thirds of these men here ten years ago. 
But not the women. Oh, no! Only here 
and there one — an old stager like Polly 
Wiltshire — or a middle-aged stager like 
myself. But we’re merely salt to the 
porridge. ’ * 

“But do you not wish to dance?” he asked 
her. The orchestra had begun a waltz, and 
the young ladies from the front stalls, each 
now attached to a stiffly gyrating male figure, 
were circling about on the stage, with a float- 
ing, wave-like swing of their full skirts which 
revealed to those below in the stalls rhythmic 
glimpses of whisking feet and trim black 
ankles. 

“I will dance with you with pleasure,” 
she replied, promptly. 

“Unfortunately” — he began with con- 
fusion — “it is ridiculous of me, but I never 
learned.” 

“Oh, then, we will sit here and talk,” she 
insisted. “I truly don’t want to dance. It’s 
ever so much cooler and more comfortable 
here. One has to come to these things, you 
know — you have to show yourself or you’re 
like the man who fell out of the balloon — 
simply not in it. But they’re all alike — all 
deadly stupid unless you’re young and want to 


320 


GLORIA MUNDI 


kick your legs about — or unless you find 
some one you’re particularly glad to see.” 

Christian did not seek to evade the implica- 
tion of the genial glance with which she 
pointed this last remark. “Yes, it is good of 
you to stay here with me,” he declared. 
“Except you and my friend who brought me 
here — I thought I saw him dancing a moment 
ago — I don’t know a soul. I have been say- 
ing to-day,” he continued, settling down in 
his seat toward her, “that I make friends 
badly — I remain here in England almost a 
stranger. ’ ’ 

“Why, I thought you went everywhere. I 
know I’m forever seeing your name in the 
‘Morning Post.’ You spell it Tower, I 
notice. ” 

“Oh, yes, I have been going everywhere— 
but going as one goes alone through a gallery 
of pictures. I do not bring out any friends 
with me.” 

She stole a swift glance at him, as she 
fanned herself. “You surprise me,” she 
commented. “I should have thought every- 
body would be running after you. ’ ’ 

“Do they? I am not conscious of it.” He 
spoke wearily. ‘ ‘ If they do, it does not interest 
me. They are not my kind of people. They 
take no hold whatever upon my sympathy. 
They make no appeal to the imagination.” 

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GLORIA MUNDI 


“You could hardly say that about those 
ladies’ skirts up there,” she jocosely re- 
marked. “I had no idea silk petticoats 
flapped so.” 

He was not to be diverted from his theme. 
“It is very funny about me,” he went on. 
“I seem to make no friends among men, of 
my own age or any other. Of course there 
are two or three exceptions — but no more. 
And as for the majority of women, they 
attract me still less. Yet when, once in a 
great while, I do meet some one who really 
interests me, it is always a woman. These 
few women whom I have in mind — oh, I could 
count them on the fingers of one hand — 
they make a much deeper and more last- 
ing impression on me than any man can 
make. ” 

“I believe that frequently happens,” she 
put in lightly. She did not seem to him to 
be following his thread of reasoning with 
conspicuous closeness, but her pleasant smile 
reassured him. 

“I think I am most readily moved on the 
side of my compassion,” he continued, intent 
upon the development of his self-analysis. 
“If I am sorry for the people, it is easier for 
me to like them — that is, if they are young 
and pretty 'women.” 

Cora laughed aloud at this, then lapsed 
322 


GLORIA MUNDI 


abruptly into thoughtfulness. “How do you 
mean?” she asked. 

“To-night I went to the place of the — the 
promenade — the Empire, is it not? And the 
sight of the young women there — it terribly 
affected me. I wanted to shout out that they 
were all my sisters — that I would protect 
them all — that they should never be forced 
by poverty and want to face that miserable 
humiliation again. ’ ’ She looked at him, her 
lips parted over the beautiful teeth, a certain 
blankness of non-comprehension in the 
beautiful eyes. As she slowly grasped the 
drift of his words, the eyes and lips joined 
in a reserved and baffling smile. “You’re 
a nice boy,” she decided, “but you’re 
tremendously young. Those girls are lazy, 
greedy, good-for-nothing hussies. They 
wouldn’t do honest work for a living if it 
was brought to them on a silver salver. 
They haven’t an idea in their empty painted 
heads except to wheedle or steal money from 
drunken fools. They’re nothing but — what 
d’ye call ’em?— parasites. I’d put ’em all 
on the treadmill, if I had my way.” 

Christian sat up a little, and she was alert 
in noting the signs of disaffection on his 
mobile face. 4 4 N evertheless, there is a great 
sorrow and a great shame in it all,” he said, 
gravely. 


323 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Oh, that I admit,” she declared, making 
busy work with her fan. “Of course! Per- 
haps I spoke more sharply than I meant. 
Every one is sorry for the poor creatures — 
but — but I confess I'm sorrier still for the 
girls who have to work like slaves for the 
barest necessities of life. Why, my dress- 
maker’s girls, two of ’em — poor little half- 
starved sisters who may come at nine or ten 
o’clock at night to deliver things, or try some- 
thing on — they get twenty-five shillings a 
week between them. That’s what gets on 
my nerve. ” 

He preserved silence for a time, then 
suddenly sat upright and faced her. A 
new light shone in his eyes. “I am the 
dullest person on earth,” he protested. 
“All this time I have not thought of it. I 
want to ask you a thousand things about 
your sister. Did you not know? — She is my 
oldest friend in England.” 

Cora drew a long breath, and held up her 
fan for a protracted and attentive inspection. 
“Oh, yes — you mean Frank,” she said, 
tentatively. 

“Frank? Is that her name? She works. 
She has a machine h 4crire — a typewriter 
it is called. You must tell me about her! 
Is she very well? And where is she to be 
found? How shall I go about it to recall 


324 


GLORIA MUNDI 


myself to her?” As there came no immediate 
response, he put his further meditations into 
dreamy words: “She spoke the first kind 
words to me, here in England. I bade 
farewell to France and the old hard life, in 
her company. It was she who pointed with 
her finger for me to have my first look at 
England — the little, rose-colored island in 
the green water, with the purple clouds 
above it. It seemed that we were very close 
together — on that one day. And I was so 
full of the thought of seeing her very soon 
again ! And that was September — and now 
it is very nearly May! . . . But you 
have not told me ! Where is it that she is to 
be found? Where does she live?” 

‘ ‘ She lives at home with my people, ’ * Cora 
replied, still with reflective deliberation. It 
was with a visible effort that she shook off 
the preoccupied air into which she had 
lapsed. “But you don’t want to go there — 
it’s out of the world — red-busses and green- 
busses and a tram and that sort of thing. 
But she has an office now of her own; that’s 
where you’d find her most easily. Bless me 
if I know where it is — it’s between the 
Strand and the Embankment, but I never 
can remember which is Norfolk Street and 
which Arundel Street — and really I’m not 
sure she’s on either. But my brother is 


325 


GLORIA MUNDI 


here. I’ll ask him, presently. And so you 
know Frank?” 

“Ah, yes, but you know her better still,” 
said Christian, softly, nestling again into the 
corner of his chair nearest her. “I wanted 
you to tell me about her.” 

“Oh, well — but what is there to tell?” she 
made answer, vaguely. ‘ ‘ She is a good girl ; 
she’s frightfully clever; she works very 
hard, and gives most of her money to her 
mamma; she’s successful, too, because she’s 
got a shop of her own, at last — and — and — 
that’s about all, isn’t it? You know, we’re 
not by way of seeing much of each other. 
There’s no quarrel, of course — not the least 
in the world — but I’m too frivolous to be in 
her class at all. I dare say it’s my fault — 
I ought to go and look her up. That’s what 
I will do, too, one of these days. But — 
you mustn’t misunderstand me — she’s an 
awfully good girl, that is, of course, if you 
like that sort of girl. And she’s pretty, too, 
don’t you think?” 

“Yes, I think so,” affirmed Christian, 
almost with solemnity. “What time would 
she come to her office — in the morning, I 
mean?” 

“Oh, don’t ask me!” laughed Cora. “At 
some ghastly hour, when they have break- 
fast, I believe, in cabmen’s shelters, and the 
326 


GLORIA MUNDI 

streets haven’t been swept. I know it 
only by hearsay. I’ve never stopped up 
quite as late as that, you know. But you 
see something like it, driving round by 
Covent Garden on your way home from a 
late dance, to see the flowers. Have you 
ever done that?” 

Christian shook his head. The idea 
attracted him, apparently. “At what hour 
is it?” he asked, with interest. 

“Oh, four or five or something like that. 
It’s really the prettiest sight you ever saw. 
I used to go often, at this time of year, and 
take home a cabload of flowers. But I am 
getting too old now — and too serious-minded. 
The mother of a family — you know. ’ ’ 

Christian looked at his watch. “It has 
occurred to me” — he suggested, hesitatingly 
— “it is now after two — perhaps we could 
make a party to go this morning. The 
dancing will not stop earlier, will it?” 

On the stage nothing seemed further from 
any mind than stopping. There was some 
complicated kind of set dance in progress, 
which at the moment involved the spectacle 
of some score of couples, hands all joined, 
romping madly around in a gigantic ring. 
The dresses whirled more wildly than ever; 
the men crooked their legs and hung out- 
ward from the circle as they went, stamping 


327 


GLORIA MUND1 


their feet and laughing boisterously. Chris- 
tian’s eyes singled out one young man who 
seemed to be making most noise of all — and 
then he perceived that it was Dicky West- 
land. 

“Perhaps it might be arranged,” Cora 
replied, after consideration, and with a side- 
long eye upon her companion. “I will go 
behind for a moment, and find my brother, 
and see what he says. No, you stop here. 
I will come back again.” 

So many people were moving about with 
entire individual freedom, that he offered no 
objection to her departure. She pushed her 
way confidently yet affably past the others 
in the row, and disappeared at the stage 
door. He had no clues by which to follow 
her in fancy after that. Once he thought 
he distinguished her at the back of the stage 
— but for the rest it was her sister rather 
than the friendly Cora who engaged his 
thoughts. The idea that he was to see her 
again, quite without delay, seemed to 
illuminate his whole mind. 

In the labyrinth of shunted scenery behind 
the back-curtain, and along the narrow 
corridors of dressing-rooms, now devoted 
to varying hospitable uses, Cora prosecuted 
what was for a time a fruitless search. 

“Where are the gentlemen getting their 
328 


GLORIA MUNDI 


drinks?” she asked at last of a cloak-room 
attendant, and the answer simplified her 
task. Downstairs, at the door of the 
manager’s room, she was lucky enough to 
hit upon Major Pirie. “Tell Eddy that* I 
want him, will you, old man,” she said, 
nodding with assurance toward the crowded, 
smoky little interior, “and if that brother of 
mine is in there, I want to see him for a 
minute, too.” 

The brother came out first — a slender, 
overdressed youth, with a face which sug- 
gested a cheap and inferior copy of Cora’s. 
It had the self-complacency without the high 
spirits — the comeliness of line without the 
delicacy of texture and charm of color. He 
was obviously young in years, but he 
regarded her through the eyes of an elderly 
and wearied person. 

“Hello,” he said, amiably enough. “Goin* 
to take Eddy home? He won’t be the worse 
for a friendly lead. Oh, he’s all right, 
though, up to now. He’s got rippin’ odds 
against Perambulator from Hoskins, seventy 
to three, you know, in fivers. Try and get 
him to let me in on the bet, will you? I 
offered to take half of it, the minute the bet 
was made — but he didn’t answer me. You 
can work it, if you try, old girl.” 

“What’s Frank’s address — her office, I 


329 


GLORIA MUNDI 


mean?” she put in abruptly, “Got a pencil? 
Go and get one from somebody. Thirty- 
two A, you say? Thanks! Now tell Eddy 
to come out.” 

“But what’s up? What do you want with 
Frank? Anything I can tell her?” 

“Never you mind! And don’t lisp a word 
to her, or to Eddy or to any one else. If it 
comes off, it’ll be a beano for the lot of 
us. ’’ 

“Right you are,’’ he assented, with a 
glimmer of animation. “But say, you won’t 
forget about the Hoskins bet, will you? If 
I could even have a third of it ! I could do 
with some odd sovereigns just now, and no 
mistake.” 

“Sh-h! Here he comes. You run awa}’ 
now, d’ye see; I want to talk with Eddy.” 

Captain Edward emerged from the haze of 
cigarette smoke which veiled the throng 
within the manager’s room. “Well?” he 
demanded, with a kind of sulky eagerness. 

“I haven’t told him you were here,” Cora 
began, under her breath, drawing her 
husband aside down the passage. “It didn’t 
seem to come into the talk. He thinks I’m 
here with Tom.” 

Edward looked down upon his wife, with 
a slow, ponderous glance of mingled hope 
and uneasiness. He puHed at his small 


330 


GLORIA MUNDI 


yellow mustache, and aimlessly jingled some 
keys in his pocket. 

“You’ve had nearly two hours with him, 
you know,” he protested, doubtfully. 

“Don't I know it!” she ejaculated, holding 
up her hands in mock pain at the retrospect. 
“Good God! If I had a thousand pounds 
to show for it, I’d say it was the hardest 
earned money / ever handled.” 

“Yes, but you haven’t got anything to 
show — so far’s I can make out,” he com- 
mented with gloom. “You didn’t mention 
my name at all, eh? But that was what you 
particularly set out to do, I thought. ’ ’ 

“Well, you thought wrong,” she re- 
sponded briskly. “I set out to do what was 
wisest under the circumstances, and I’ve 
done it. I’ve got an inkling of a game to be 
played” — she let her eyes twinkle at him as 
she made this tantalizing little pause — “a 
game, you old goose, worth seven hundred 
thousand times anything you ever thought 
of.” 

The ex-hussar regarded her fixedly, the 
while he pondered her words. “I don’t 
think I’m very keen about games,” he 
remarked at last, with obvious suspicion in 
his tone. “A married woman always gets 
the worst of games, in the long run.” 

She grinned affectionate contempt up at 


331 


GLORIA MUNDI 


him. “Don’t be such a duffer, Eddy!” she 
remonstrated with him. “If I had a notion 
of that sort — do you suppose I’d come and 
give it away to you? What rot you talk!” 

“Yes — but what is your game?” he 
demanded, doggedly. 

“I won’t tell you!” She spoke with great 
apparent decision. “You’d blab it all over 
the place. You can no more keep a secret 
than you can keep a ten-pound note.” 

“Oh, I say, Cora,” he urged, in grieved 
protestation. “You know I’m a regular 
bailey oyster, where a thing has to be kept 
dark. You’d better tell me, you know. It’ll 
keep me from — imaginin’ things.” 

The wife smiled. “It’s only a plant I’ve 
got in my mind,” she explained, after con- 
sideration. “What’s the matter with my 
naming a wife for him, eh?” 

Edward, upon reflection, pouted his lips. 
“Probably you’d come a cropper over it, in 
the first place,” he objected, slowly, “and 
then even if you did name the winner, she’d 
probably welsh us out of our winnings — and 
besides, what do we want of his marrying at 
all. The longer he puts off getting married, 
the less the odds against us gets. I should 
think even a woman could see that.” 

Cora permitted herself a frank yawn. 
“I’ll explain it to you to-morrow,” she said. 

332 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“And now I must go back to my Juggins for 
a few minutes. I’ll come and fetch you 
when I’m ready to go.” 

“I don’t fancy it much, you know,” he 
urged upon her as she turned. He took a 
step toward her, and put his hand on her 
arm. “If your brother Tom was any good” 
— he began, with a hard growl in his voice — 
“by God, I’d have half a mind to talk with 
him about my plan. Old Pirie’d be no use — 
but if Tom had the sense and the nerve — 
why, we’d — ” 

She had held his eye with a steady, com- 
prehending glance, under the embarrassment 
of which his speech faltered and then lapsed 
altogether. “No, the less either you or 
Tom have to do with your plan the better. 
Go in now, and take a plain soda, and wait 
for me! You’ve got no plan, mind you. 
You’ve simply been dreaming about it. Do 
you hear? You never had a plan! You 
can’t have one!’ 

She spoke with significant authority, and 
he deferred to it with a sullen upward wag 
of the head. “All right,” he muttered 
curtly, and turned on his heel. 

“Plain soda, mind!” she called after him, 
and without waiting for an answer, ran 
briskly up the steps toward the stage. 

Captain Edward’s plain soda had become a 
333 


GLORIA MUNDI 


remote and almost wholly effaced memory 
by the time his wife again summoned him 
from the manager’s room. 

“We’ll cut this now, if you don’t mind,” 
she remarked, in her most casual tone. “I’m 
as tired as if I’d danced every minute. ” She 
had put on her wraps, and her small, pretty 
face, framed by the white down of her hood, 
seemed to his scrutiny to wear an expression 
of increased contentment. 

“Anything fresh?’’ he asked, as they went 
in search of his coat and hat. 

“Yes — fresh is the word,” she replied, 
with simulated nonchalance. “Fresh, 
fresher, freshest — as we used to say at 
school. ’ ’ 

“Wha’ is it?” he inquired, when they were 
within touch of the open air. The music was 
still audible behind them, broken by faint, 
intermittent echoes of stamping feet and 
laughing voices. 

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning,” 
she answered listlessly. “I hope to heaven 
you’ve got a cab-fare.” 

“Yes, tha’s all right,” said Edward, wav- 
ing his stick toward the rank in the dark 
middle distance of the street. “Whyn’t 
you tell me all about it?” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t get onto it now,” she 
replied, But later, in the hansom, the desire 
334 


GLORIA MUNDt 


to unburden her mind achieved the mastery. 

“Are you awake?” she demanded, and 
went on: “He’s not a bad sort, that boy, 
you know.” 

“Damn him!” said Edward, breathing 
heavily. 

‘ ‘ I rather like him myself, ’ ’ she continued. 
“He’s a bit slow to talk to, and he’s fresher 
than Devonshire cream, but there isn’t a 
drop of the Johnnie in him. He’s as clean 
as my little girl.” 

“Damn him,’’ repeated her husband, but 
in a milder and even argumentative tone. 

“He’s a proper bundle of nerves, that 
youngster, ’ ’ she mused, as if talking to her- 
self. “And whatever those nerves of his 
tell him to do, he’ll do it. And I’d lay odds 
he’s goin’ to surprise us all. He’s got some- 
thing boilin’ in his mind — something that’s 
just struck him to-night — I could see that. 
Oh, if I was a man! — I’d get out of this 
hansom now, and I’d follow that lad, and 
I’d get hold of him somehow, and I’d bend 
him any way I chose — that would be some- 
thing like! — but then again, you take him 
some other way, and he’s as stubborn as a 
moke. But I like him, all the same.” She 
turned toward her husband, and lifted her 
voice a little. “I like him so much, I’m 
thinkin’ of havin’ him for a brother-in-law.” 


335 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Strornary thing,” commented Edward, 
earnestly, “no mar’er where I start from, 
whenever I get t’ the Circus, I get the 
hiccups. ” 

Cora put her head back against the 
cushions, and closed her eyes. 


336 


CHAPTER XVI 


Christian discovered that he was not sorry 
to be alone. Cora’s company had been amus- 
ing and vivifying, no doubt, but it was even 
better now to have his own thoughts. He 
observed with relief that others in the stalls 
were smoking; tobacco as a rule had not 
very much meaning for him, but now he lit 
a large cigar from the dinner-case in his 
pocket, and stretching himself in his chair, 
proceeded to enjoy it. He kept his glance, 
in an indolent fashion, upon the stage, but 
his mind roamed far and wide. 

Cora, in returning to explain that it would 
not be possible for her to stay till the time 
for Covent Garden, had ingenuously sat on 
for nearly another hour, cheering him with 
her lively prattle. She asked him many 
questions about himself, his diversions, his 
tastes, his relations with Lord Julius and 
Emanuel. He wondered now if these 
queries had been quite as artless as they 
seemed at the time. There rose up before 
him, in retrospect, certain occasional phases 
of her manner which suggested something 
337 


GLORIA MUNDI 


furtive. She had watched the stage, and 
the doorway leading from it, with a kind of 
detached uneasiness on which he now 
languidly speculated. It occurred to him 
again to wonder if her husband was really in 
the building. Christian found himself think- 
ing of this cousin of his almost with compas- 
sion. Poor devil! Was his fate not even more 
tragic than that of the others who were merely 
dead? He regretted now that he had not 
asked Cora point-blank as to his presence. His 
mood was so tolerant to-night that even the 
unforgivable insult to his father lost its sharp 
outlines, and became only a hasty phrase, 
the creature of imperative provocation. 

In her final leave-taking, Cora had genially 
proffered her services if he desired to know 
any or all of the young ladies — and he had 
begged to be excused. Dicky Westland 
came down to the stalls later on, and shame- 
facedly linked a similar offer to his apologies 
for his prolonged neglect of his guest. But 
Christian protested that he was enjoying 
himself thoroughly. He was never less 
sleepy in his life ; he did not want a drink ; 
he would not dream of wishing to go until 
his friend was entirely ready. “You cannot 
realize,” he concluded, with his persuasive 
smile, “how strange and interesting this all 
is to me.” 


338 


GLORIA MUNDI 


But when Dicky had returned again to the 
stage, Christian paid less attention than ever 
to the diverting spectacle. His thoughts 
reverted obstinately to Captain Edward — 
and to that portion of the family of which he 
was the congenital type. Was not that 
really the sort of man who should have the 
title? There seemed a cloud of negative 
reasons, but were these not sentimental 
abstractions? Should the duke not be a 
rough, hard sportsman, a man with a passion 
for horses and dogs and gunpowder saturat- 
ing his veins? One who loved the country 
for its rude, toilsome out-of-door sports, and 
who liked best in town the primitive amuse- 
ments of the natural man? He figured 
Edward in his mind's eye most readily as 
puffing and cursing over a rat-hole with his 
terriers — or as watching with a shine of 
steel in his blue eyes the blood-stained 
progress of a prize-fight. And truly, were 
these not the things that a duke of Glaston- 
bury of right belonged to? 

He could not think of Lord Julius and of 
Emanuel as being Torrs at all. The older 
man had the physical inheritance of the 
family, it was true, but he was almost as 
much estranged from its ideals as that extra- 
ordinary son of his. They both were 
grotesquely out of the picture of English 
339 


GLORIA MUNDI 


aristocratic life, whether in country or town. 
And he himself — how absolutely he also was 
out of the picture ! 

The immensity of the position which his 
grandfather’s death would devolve upon him 
had been present in his mind, it seemed 
sleeping as well as waking, for half a year. 
At the outset he had thrilled at the prospect ; 
sometimes still he was able to reassure him- 
self about it, and to profess to himself con- 
fidence that when the emergency came, he 
would be equal to it. But more often, in 
these latter days, the outlook depressed him. 
Of course nothing grievous would happen 
to him, in any event. He would be assured 
of an excellent living to the end of his days, 
with an exceptional amount of social defer- 
ence from those about him, and relative free- 
dom to do what he liked. He could marry 
and rear a family of lords and ladies; he 
could have his speeches in the House of 
Lords or elsewhere printed in the “Times” ; 
if he looked about in America, he could 
secure a bride with perhaps millions to her 
dower. There was, in any case, the reason- 
able likelihood that he would be, to some 
extent, the heir of Lord Julius and Emanuel, 
in the latter part of his life. Thus he could 
go on, when he set himself to the task, piling 
up reasons why he ought to view the future 


340 


GLORIA MUNDI 


with buoyant serenity — to count himself 
among the happiest of men. 

But then — was '■his not all self-deception? 
Did he not know in his heart that he was 
not happy? — that this gilded and ornate 
career awaiting him really repelled all his 
finer senses? To-night as he followed his 
thoughts behind the transparent screen of 
whisking dresses and jolting figures upon 
which his outer vision rested, the impulse 
to escape the whole thing rose strong within 
him. Already he had sworn that he would 
no longer weary himself with the meaning- 
less and distasteful routine of social obliga- 
tions in London. Why should he not plunge 
boldly forward beyond that, and say that he 
would make no further sacrifices of any sort 
to the conventions of mediocrity? 

He lit another cigar and, rising, walked 
about a little by himself at the side of the 
stalls, his hands deep in his pockets, his brows 
knitted in formative introspection. 

First of all, it was clear that Emanuel’s 
hopes about his taking up the System were 
doomed. It was not in him to assume such 
a part. He had not the capacity for such 
work; even if he had, he lacked both the 
tremendous driving energy and the enthu- 
siasm. 

But when Emanuel learned this, then he 


34i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


would be angry, and he would cover over no 
more money to that account at the bank. 
Eh bien ! It couldn’t be helped. Christian 
recalled that he had still at that blessed bank 
more than sixty thousand francs! — truly a 
prodigious sum, when one thought of it 
soberly. The question whether this sum 
ought not to be given back to Emanuel, under 
certain circumstances, seemed to have settled 
itself. When it had first occurred to him that 
afternoon, it had suggested a good many 
moral difficulties. But it was really simplicity 
itself, as he considered it now. There were 
all those lean and poverty-stricken years of 
his youth and childhood to be remembered — 
and, stretching back beyond that, those other 
years of his father’s exile before he was 
born — nearly forty in all. The intelligent 
thing was to regard the three thousand 
pounds as a sort of restitution fund, to be 
spread out over the whole of that long period. 
Viewed in this light, the annual fraction of 
it was a paltry matter. Besides, Emanuel 
had expressly declared that no conditions 
whatever were attached to the money. 
Christian saw that he could make his mind 
quite easy on that score. 

So then, there were sixty thousand francs ! 
With that he might live admirably, even 
luxuriously, on the Continent, until his 
342 


GLORIA MUNDI 


grandfather’s death. That event would of 
course alter everything. There would then 
come automatically to him — no matter where 
he was or what he did — a certain fixed in- 
come, which he understood to be probably 
over rather than under seventy-five thou- 
sand francs a year. This — still on the Con- 
tinent — would be almost incredible wealth! 
There was really no limit to the soul-satisfy- 
ing possibilities it opened before him. He 
would have a yacht on the Mediterranean; 
he would have a little chateau in the mar- 
velous green depths of the Styrian Moun- 
tains — of which a boyhood friend had told 
him with such tender reverence of memory. 
He would see Innsbruck and Moscow, and, 
if he liked, even Samarkand and China. 
Why, he could go round the world in his 
yacht, if he chose — to remote spice islands and 
tropical seas! He could be a duke when, 
and as much, as it pleased him to be 
one. Instead of being the slave to his posi- 
tion and title, he would make them minister 
to him. He would do original things — 
realize his own inner fancies and predilec- 
tions. If the whim seized him to climb 
Mount Ararat, or to cross the Sahara with a 
caravan of his own servants — that he would 
do. But above all things — now and hence- 
forth forever, he would be a free man! He 


343 


GLORIA MUNDI 


laughed grimly as he thought how slight 
was the actual difference between the life of 
pauper bondage he had led up to last 
October, and the existence which polite 
England and London had imposed upon him 
ever since. The second set of chains were 
of precious metal — that was all. Well, 
hereafter there would be no fetters of any 
description! 

“I’m quite ready to go now, old man, if 
you are,” Dicky Westland said at some 
belated stage of this reverie. He had 
approached without being seen by his 
friend, and he had to pull at Christian’s 
sleeve to attract his attention. “I fancy 
you’ve been walking in your sleep,” he 
laughed, in comment upon this. 

Christian shook himself, and, blinking at 
Dicky, protested that he had never been 
more wide awake in his life. “I go only if 
you’re entirely ready,” he said. “Don’t 
dream of leaving on my account. I have 
been extremely interested, I assure you. ’ ’ 

“Every fellow has his own notions of 
enjoyment,” reflected Westland, with 
drowsy philosophy, as they went up the 
stairs toward the stage. “I tried to explain 
your point of view to some of the girls up 
here, but I’m not sure they quite grasped it. 
They were dying to have me bring you up 
344 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and make you dance, you know. By 
George, I had a job to keep Dolly Montressor 
from coming down and fetching you, off her 
own bat.” 

“How should they know or care about 
me?” asked Christian. “I didn’t expect to 
be pointed out. ’ ’ 

“My dear man,” retorted Dicky, sleepily, 
“no one pointed you out. They all know 
you by sight as well as they do George 
Edwardes. It isn’t too late, still, you know 
— if you really would like to be introduced.” 

Christian shook his head with resolution, 
as they halted at the wings. “Truly, no!” 
he repeated. “But I should like a glass of 
wine and a sandwich, if we can get past the 
stage. I’m not an atom sleepy, but I’m 
hungry and thirsty. ’ ’ 

On their way through a narrow, shadowed 
defile of huge canvas-stretched frames of 
deal, they passed two young men, one much 
taller than the other, who had their heads 
bent together in some low-voiced, private 
conversation. Christian glanced at them 
casually, and was struck with the notion that 
they observed him in turn, and exchanged 
comment upon his approach. He looked at 
them with a keener scrutiny as he went by — 
and it seemed to him that there was some- 
thing familiar in the face of the larger man 
345 


GLORIA MUNDI 


— who indeed looked away upon the instant 
their eyes met. 

“Did you see those men?” he asked West- 
land, in an undertone, a moment later. “Do 
you know them?” 

“Those we just passed?” Dicky looked 
over his shoulder. “I don’t know the thin 
chap, but the other fellow is Gus Torr — why, 
of course — your cousin. Somehow, I never 
think of you as belonging to that lot — I 
mean, being related to them. Of course — 
that was his sister-in-law you were sitting 
with. Why did you ask if I knew him?” 

“Nothing — I was not sure if it was he — 
I’ve seen him only once,” Christian replied, 
with an assumption of indifference. “I 
remember having noticed then how much he 
looked like his brother. ’ ’ 

“Yes — poor devils!” commented Dicky, as 
they entered the manager’s room. Appar- 
ently it was in his mind to say more, but the 
place was crowded, and the problem of get- 
ting through the throng to the food and 
drink monopolized his attention. 

Some minutes later, while Christian stood 
in another corridor, waiting for his friend to 
bring their hats and coats from the mysteri- 
ously elusive spot where he had left them, 
he overheard the mention of his name. Two 
women’s voices, wholly unknown to him, 


GLORIA MUNDI 


came from behind an improvised partition of 
screens near at hand, with great distinctness. 

One of them said: “He spells his name 
‘Tower,’ you know. I understand the idea 
is to make people forget who his father 
was. ’ ’ 

“Good job, too!’’ replied the other voice. 

Christian turned abruptly, and strode off 
in the direction whither Dicky had disap- 
peared. “After forty years!’’ he murmured 
hotly to himself. “After forty years!” and 
clenched his fists till the nails hurt his 
palms. 

The two young men walked homeward, 
arm in arm, through silent streets over 
which the dawn was spreading its tentative 
first lights. It was colder than they had 
thought, and the morning air was at once 
misty and fresh. In Leicester Square the 
scent of lilacs came to them; beside the 
pale, undefined bulk of the squat statue they 
caught the lavender splash of color which 
was sister to the perfume. 

“By Jove, it’s spring!’’ said Dicky. He 
pointed out the flowers, and then, still 
drawing Christian’s arm to turn his attention 
to the square, recalled to him as they moved 
that this was the oldtime haunt of foreigners 
in London. “Dickens’s villain in ‘Little 


347 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Dorrit,’ you know — the fellow whose mus- 
tache went up and his nose went down — I 
never can remember his name — he lived 
here. In those days, all that sort of chap- 
pies lived here — the adventurers and jail- 
birds who had made their own countries too 
hot to hold them. ’ ’ 

Westland’s insistence upon this theme had 
no purpose other than to divert Christian’s 
attention while they passed the Empire. 
He was tired, and profoundly disinclined to 
any renewal of the discussion about the 
promenade. He encountered with vague 
surprise, therefore, the frowning glance 
which Christian, half halting, bent upon 
him. The young man’s displeasure was 
marked, but Dicky for the life of him could 
not imagine why. He tightened his hold on 
the other’s arm and quickened their pace. 

But Christian, after a few yards, suddenly 
withdrew his arm altogether. “ I do not like 
to walk so fast,” he said, with a sharp note 
in his voice. 

Dicky regarded him with puzzled appre- 
hension. “What’s up, old man?” he asked, 
almost pleadingly. “Has anything gone 
wrong?” 

Christian, still with knitted brows, parted 
his lips to speak. Then he seemed to recon- 
sider his intention, and let his face soften as 
348 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he paused. “No — nothing at all, “here- 
plied, after a moment. He smiled a little to 
reassure the other. “It was nothing at 
all/’ he repeated. “Only I am nervous and 
excited to-night — this morning, I should say 
— and my head is full of projects. It is 
twelve hours since you came to me — and the 
whole world has changed meanwhile. I see 
everything different. I am not altered to 
your eyes — but none the less, I am not at 
all, in any respect, the man you took to dine 
with you. You have not observed anything 
— but it is a revolution that has occurred 
under your very nose, Mr. Dicky West- 
land.” 

“I’m too sleepy to observe anything,” the 
other declared. “I couldn’t tell a revolution 
from a — from a hot-potato can.” 

The comparison had forced itself upon 
Westland’s jaded mind through the medium 
of his weary eyes. There before them, by 
the curb at the comer, stood the dingy 
wheeled-oven of the streets, the sullen red 
glow of its lower door making a strange 
patch of fiery light upon the ragged trousers 
of the man in charge. He was a dirty and 
undersized creature, and he looked up at the 
two young gentlemen in evening dress with 
a speculative, yet hardly hopeful, eye. 

Christian stopped short. “Ah, this is 
349 


GLORIA MUNDI 


very good, * * he said, with a brightening face. 
“I have never eaten a potato from a can.” 

Dicky sighed, but resigned himself with 
only a languid protest: “You have to eat 
so much else besides the potato,” he com- 
mented dolefully. 

The man opened an upper door, and then 
drew from under the machine a twisted wad 
of old newspaper, which, being unwound, 
revealed a gray heap of salt. “How many, 
cap’n?” he demanded, briefly. 

Christian had been glancing across the 
Circus meanwhile — to where, in the misty 
vagueness of dawn, Piccadilly opened be- 
tween its tall, shapely corners, and beyond, 
the curved yellowish sweep of Regent Street 
began. The dim light revealed some lurk- 
ing figures to his eyes. 

“Can you call over those women?” he 
asked the potato-man. 

A tall, fresh-faced young policeman came 
upon the group round the Criterion corner. 
Although the pounding of his thick boots on 
the pavement had been audible long before 
his appearance, he regarded them with the 
slightly dramatic air of one who has deftly 
surprised a group of conspirators. The 
potato-man looked from Christian to the 
officer and made no reply. 

Christian drew some silver from his 


35o 


GLORIA MUNDI 


pocket, shaking off the restraining hand 
Westland tried to lay on his arm. “Is there 
any objection, constable,” he inquired, “to 
my buying potatoes for those friends of ours 
over there? It is a cold morning. ” 

The policeman’s glance ranged from the 
white ties of the young gentlemen to the 
coins in Christian’s palm. His official 
expression relaxed. “I dare say it’ll do no 
’arm, sir,” he replied with courtesy. He 
even lent himself to the enterprise by stoop- 
ing down and beating a certain number of 
strokes with his baton on the pavement. ’ ’ 

“How many times did he strike?” Dicky 
made whispered inquiry. “That’s a new 
dodge to me.” 

New or old, it was efficient. Forlorn 
shapes began to emerge from the shadows of 
the big streets opposite, and move forward 
across the empty open space. Others stole 
noiselessly in from the byways of Leicester 
Square. There were perhaps a. dozen in all 
when the potato-man made his census — 
poorly dressed, fagged, bold-faced, furtive- 
eyed women. They spoke in monotonous, 
subdued tones among themselves. There 
were to be heard German, French, Belgian 
French, cockney English, and Lancashire 
English. Two of them pulled at the sleeve 
of the potato -man to make him hurry. 

35i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian, regarding his motley guests, 
found himself neither touched nor enter- 
tained. They seemed as stupid as they were 
squalid. With a gesture of decision he gave 
the money to the policeman. 

“Pay for it all,” he directed, “and if more 
come, give them a look-in, too — and keep 
what is left for yourself.” 

“Now then, Frenchy!” broke in the con- 
stable, sharply. “Mind what you’re at! 
Pass Germany the salt!” With an abrupt 
change to civility, he turned to Christian. 
“Right you are, sir!” he said. 

Dicky laughed drowsily. “It’s like the 
Concert of Europe,” he declared. “Shall 
we go on?” 

They moved down the broad pavement, 
again arm in arm, breathing in slowly the 
new, keen air, and observing in a silence I 
which was full of tacit comment the beauti- I 
ful termination of the street before them: 
the dark figures of the Crimean monument 
standing in grim relief against the morning 
light, the stately palace beyond, with its i 
formal portals of club buildings, its embow- 
ered statues, its huge column towering ; 
ponderously above the pale green of spring 
in the park — all gray and cool and, as it 
were, thoughtfully solemn in the hush of 
daybreak. 


352 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Ah, yes — this wonderful London i” 
sighed Christian, as they halted at the Con- 
tinental corner. He spread his hand to 
embrace the prospect before them. “How 
right you were! I have not learned to 
know it at all. But I begin now ! If you will 
walk through the square with me — there is 
something I wish to say. ’ ’ 

This something did not get itself said till 
they halted within this somber, slate-colored 
square. Christian paused before a big, pre- 
tentious house of gloomy, and even forbid- 
ding aspect — a front of sooty stucco, with 
cornices of ashen-hued stone, and many 
windows masked with sullen brown shades. 

“This was our town house a hundred 
years ago,” he said meditatively. “My 
father was born here. My grandfather sold 
it when the entail was broken. Until this 
afternoon, it was my fixed resolve to buy it 
back again. I said always to myself: ‘If I 
am to have a house in London, it must be 
this old one of ours in St. James’s.’ But 
that is all changed now. At least, it is no 
longer a resolve. ’ ’ 

Dicky gazed at him with sleepy eyes. 
“How do you mean?” he asked, per- 
functorily. 

“Wake up now, and I will tell you !” Chris- 
tian, with a lingering glance, as of renuncia- 
353 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tion, at the mansion, began to walk again. 
“This is it. You said you were eager to be 
some colonial official’s secretary — to have 
three hundred pounds — and the yellow fever. 
To obtain this, you expend all your energies, 
you and your relations. Well, then — why 
will you not be my secretary instead? You 
shall have more than three hundred pounds 
— and no yellow fever. ’ ’ 

Westland had roused himself, and looked 
inquiringly now into the other’s face. 
“What do you need of a secretary?” he 
objected, half jestingly. “If you want to 
talk about it after you’ve come into the 
thing — I don’t say that I shouldn’t be glad- 
to consider it. But the deuce of it is ” 

“No — I wish it to begin now, this morn- 
ing, this hour — this minute!” Christian 
spoke peremptorily. 

Dicky, pondering, shook his head. “No, 
you mustn’t insist on settling anything 
now,” he decided. “It isn’t regular, you 
know. If you — really — want to propose 
something immediate — why, I’ll call and 
talk with you to-morrow — or, that is to say, 
this afternoon. But I couldn’t possibly let 
you commit yourself to anything of that sort 
now. ’ ’ 

Christian frowned at his friend. “You 
speak of what you will let me do ! ” he said. 


354 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“In your opinion — I see it! — yon think I 
have not sober command of myself, am not 
responsible — is that it?” 

“Nonsense! I’ve said nothing of the 
sort,” protested the other. “Of course, 
you’re perfectly all right — but we’re both 
tired and sleepy, and jmu’re not so accus- 
tomed to go home by daylight as I am — and 
it wouldn’t be at all the thing for me to 
close a bargain with you now. Can’t you 
see what I mean? I wouldn’t play three- 
penny ecarte with you at this hour in the 
morning — and I’m damned if I’m going to 
let you in for three hundred a year for the 
rest of my life. Shall I come round, say, at 
luncheon time?” 

“I shall not be in,” said Christian, curtly. 
He looked at his companion, and then past 
him at the trees in the square, in vexed 
rumination. “What I have it in my mind 
to do” — he continued, vaguely, after a pause 
— “it is not a thing for delay. It is in my 
blood to do it at once. It was my impulse to 
make you my comrade in it — but of course, 
since you have your reservations and doubts, 
there need be nothing more said about it. ’ ’ 

The shrug of the shoulders which empha- 
sized these last words nettled Westland, and 
at the same time helped him to repress his 
annoyance. It lent to the whole episode just 
355 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that savor of foreign eccentricity which 
appealed to the amiable tolerance of the 
islander. 

“My dear man,” he urged, gently, “I 
haven’t the slightest notion what it is that 
you’re so keen about — but whatever it is, do 
go home and sleep on it, and make up your 
mind calmly after breakfast. It’s no good 
deciding important questions, and striking 
out new lines, and all that sort of thing, at 
this hour in the morning. Nobody ever 
does it, you know. It simply can’t be done. ” [ 

“Good-night!” said Christian, proffering 
his hand. “You are right; it is high time 
for those who are sleepy to go to bed I 
won’t drag you round to Duke Street.’’ 

Dicky looked at him doubtfully. “You do 
wrong to be angry, you know, ’ ’ he said. 

“But that is your error — I am not in the 
least angry — I beg you to believe it,” cried 
Christian. His eyes beamed genially in 
proof of his assertion, and he put heartiness 
into his voice. “For a minute I was disap- 
pointed — shall I say vexed? — but not any i 
more. How should I quarrel with you for 
not beholding things through my eyes? To 
me, something is a giant ; you perceive that 
it is a windmill. Eh bien! We do not con- 
vince each other — but surely we do not 
quarrel.” 


356 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Oh, I am game enough to play Sancho 
to your Don,” expostulated Dicky, with a 
readiness which Christian had not looked 
for, “but I draw the line at starting out on 
an empty stomach, and when we’re too 
sleepy to stand. Well, what shall it be?” 
He took the hand offered him, and strove to 
signify by his cordial grasp that no trace of 
a misunderstanding remained. “Shall I 
look you up, say, at two o’clock?” 

“I do not think I shall be there. Good- 
night!” responded Christian, and the two 
parted. 


357 





' • » • I 


















r , . ■ 


-f . 




'■% • . ! ;a . 






















CHAPTER XVII 


Christian climbed the stairs at Duke 
Street, and let himself into his apartments, 
with painstaking precautions against being 
overheard. There was an excess of zeal 
about Falkner which might easily impel him 
to present himself for service at even this 
most unseasonable hour. 

The young man had still only formless 
notions of what he was going to do, but it 
was at least plain to him that Falkner was to 
have no part in the proceedings. He drew 
off his varnished boots as a further measure 
of security, and then, with more hesitation, 
removed his cloak and coat, and raised the 
inside blinds at the two windows. This 
sitting-room of his had rather pleased him 
formerly. He could recall having taken 
quite an affectionate interest in buying and 
arranging the rugs and pictures and book- 
cases with which he had supplemented the 
somewhat gaunt furnishing of his pred- 
ecessor. But now, in this misty and 
reluctant light of the London morning, noth- 
ing seemed good to him as he looked about. 

359 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The pretty things of his own selection said 
no more to him than did the chattels he had 
taken over from a stranger. There was no 
spirit of home in them. 

He moved noiselessly to the adjoining 
bedroom, . and drew the curtains there as 
well, and glanced round. Here, too, he had 
the sense of beholding the casual appoint- 
ments of a hotel chamber. Nothing made 
an appeal of intimacy to him. He reflected 
that in a day or two he should not be able to 
remember how his room looked — even if his 
memory attempted the fatuous task. Duke 
Street had been engraved on his cards for 
six months, but it had not made the faintest 
mark on his heart. 

With an air of decision, he suddenly began 
to drag forth his clothes from the wardrobe 
and drawers, and spread them on the bed. 
In the tiny dressing-room beyond were piled 
his traveling bags, and these he brought out 
into the light. Upon consideration, how- 
ever, the original impulse to take a good 
many things weakened and dwindled. To 
begin with, their secret removal was in no 
way practicable. Moreover, now that he 
thought of it, he did not want them. They 
would be simply encumbrances. He would 
take with him only the smallest handbag, 
with a change of linen and a few brushes. 

360 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Finally, the conviction that even this must 
be a nuisance became clear to him, and he 
desisted from the random packing he had 
begun. Still moving about as silently as 
possible, he changed his ceremonial tie for 
one of every-day wear, and put on a suit of 
sober-colored tweeds, and his easiest brown 
boots. The transfer of his watch, some 
loose gold and the roll of notes from one set 
of pockets to another, completed his prepara- 
tions in the bedchamber. He tiptoed out to 
the larger room, and there, upon reflection, 
wrote a few lines for Falkner’s direction, 
saying merely that he was called away, and 
that matters were to go on as usual until he 
returned or sent further orders. He sepa- 
rated a banknote from the roll to place inside 
this note, but on second thoughts wrote a 
check instead, and sealing and directing the 
envelope, laid it in a conspicuous place on 
the table. 

He noticed then, for the first time, that 
there were some letters from the evening 
post for him, neatly arranged on this table. 
He opened the nearest, and glanced at its 
contents: it was a note from his second 
cousin, Lady Milly Poynes, the fair-haired, 
fair-faced, fair-brained, fair-everything sister 
of Lord Lingfield, reminding him that she 
was depending upon his escort for the Private 
361 


GLORIA MUNDI 


View of the Academy, and that the time for 
getting tickets was running very short. He 
laughed aloud at the conceit of the Royal 
Academy rising in his path as an obstacle at 
such a moment — and without more ado 
thrust this with the unopened letters into 
his pocket. Then, when he had made sure 
once more that he had his check-book, 
nothing remained to be done. He went 
softly forth, without so much as a thought 
of taking a farewell glance behind him, 
found a soft dark hat in the hallway and 
then closed the outer door with great care 
upon the whole Duke Street episode of his 
life. 

“You are not to see me here again in a 
hurry,” he confided aloud to the banisters 
and steps, when he had descended to the 
first floor. Then he laughed to himself, and 
tripped gaily down the remaining flight. 

There was no hesitation now in his mood. 
He walked briskly back through the square, 
and then down Waterloo Place, till he came 
to the Guards’ Memorial. He moved round 
this to the front, and looked up at one of the 
three bronze Guardsmen with the confident 
air of familiarity. He knew this immutable, 
somber face under every shifting aspect of 
light and shadow; he had stared at the 
mantling greatcoat and the huge bearskin 
362 


GLORIA MUNDI 


of this hero of his a hundred times. The 
very first day of his arrival in London he 
had made the acquaintance of this statue, 
and had started, dazed and fascinated, at the 
strange resemblance it suggested. Thus 
his boy-father must have looked, with the 
beard and the heavy dress of the Russian 
winter. The metal figure came to mean to 
him more than all London beside. In the 
sad, strong, silent countenance which gazed 
down upon him he read forever the tragedy 
that gripped his heartstrings. Forever 
Honor, standing aloft, held the laurel wreath 
poised high above the warrior’s head — im- 
movable in the air, never to descend to 
touch its mark. Christian had seen this 
wreath always through moist eyes. 

This morning, for a wonder, no tearful 
impulse came to him as he looked upward. 
The impassive face was as gravely fine as 
ever, but its customary effect of pathos was 
lacking. There even seemed in its sight- 
less eyes a latent perception of Christian’s 
altered mood. He lifted his hat soberly and 
saluted the statue. 

Toward the Strand now he made his way, 
walking blithely, and humming to himself. 
He could not forbear to smile at a policeman 
he passed in front of St. Martin’s. Two 
elderly and much bewrapped cabmen stood 
363 


GLORIA MUNDI 


stamping their feet beside a shelter, and 
they pointed toward their ridiculous old 
horses and battered growlers as he came 
along, with an air that moved him to glee. 
He gave them a shilling to divide, and went 
on, conscious of a novel delight in himself 
and in the world at large. 

The big clock showed it to be half-past 
five. There was no blue in the sky, but the 
mist of daybreak was abating, and the air 
was milder. Not a living creature was vis- 
ible along the naked length of the Strand. 
At the end, the beautiful spire of St. Mary’s 
rose from the dim grays about its base, 
exquisite in tints and contour as an Alpine 
summit in the moment before sunrise. 

A turning to the left opened to Christian, 
unexpectedly, a scene full of motion and 
color. He had not thought himself so near 
Covent Garden, but clearly this must be it. 
He walked up toward the busy scene of 
high-laden vans, big cart-horses and swarm- 
ing porters, wondering why no sign of all 
this activity was manifest in the sleeping 
Strand below, barely a stone’s throw distant. 
He saw the glowing banks of flowers within, 
as he approached, and made toward them, 
sighing already with pleasure at the promise 
they held out to him. 

He might have read in the papers that it 


364 


GLORIA MUNDI 


was a backward and a grudging April, this 
year, in the matter of flowers. But to Chris- 
tian, no memory of the exuberant South 
suggested any rivalry with this wonderful 
show of northern blossoms. Tulips and 
daffodils, amaryllis and azaleas, rhododen- 
drons, carnations, roses — he seemed to have 
imagined to himself nothing like this before. 
He spent over an hour among them, in the 
end making numerous purchases. At each 
stall he gave an address — always the same 
— and exacted the pledge of delivery at eight 
o’clock. 

At last he could in reason buy nothing 
more, and he went out to look about him. 
He found the place where the market-men 
take drinks at all hours, and food and coffee 
when nature’s sternest demands can be 
positively no longer disregarded — but it 
did not invite his appetite. Some further 
time he spent in gazing wondering at the 
vast walls of vegetables and fruit being tire- 
lessly built up and pulled down again, 
pondering meanwhile the question whether 
he should breakfast before eight o’clock, or 
at some indefinitely later hour. He partially 
solved the problem at length by buying a 
small box of Algerian peaches, and eating 
them where he stood. Then some exception- 
ally fine bananas tempted him further, and 
365 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he finished with a delicate little melon from 
Sicily. 

How it carried him back to the days of 
his youth — this early morning fragrance of 
the fresh fruit! It was as if he were at 
Cannes again — only buoyant now, and 
happy, and oh, so free ! And in his pocket 
he could feel whenever he liked the soft, 
munificent crackle of over four thousand 
francs! The sapphire Mediterranean had 
surely never been so lovely to his gaze as 
was now the dingy Strand below. 

The laggard hour came round at last. He 
descended to Arundel Street, and discovered 
the house he wanted, and found just within 
the entrance two or three of the flower-laden 
porters awaiting his arrival, For the rest, 
the building seemed profoundly unoccupied. 
He led the way up to the third floor, and had 
the plants set down beside the locked door 
which bore the sign “Miss Bailey.’* Other 
similarly burdened porters made their ap- 
pearance in turn, till the narrow hallway j 
looked like a floral annex to the Garden 
itself. 

He waited alone with his treasures for what 
seemed to him a very long time, then 
descended and stood at the street door till 
he was tired, then climbed the stairs again. 
The extraordinary quiet of the big building, 
366 


GLORIA MUNDI 


filled with business offices as it was, puzzled 
him. He had no experience of early-morn- 
ing London to warn him that English habits 
differed from those of the continent. It 
occurred to him that perhaps it was a holiday 
— conceivably one of those extraordinary 
interludes called Bank Holidays — and he 
essayed a perplexing computation in the 
calendar in the effort to settle this point. 

Finally there began the sounds of steps, 
and the opening and closing of doors, below 
him. A tow-headed boy in buttons came up 
to his landing, stared in vacuous amazement 
at him and the flowers and passed on to the 
next floor. Noises of occupancy rose from 
the well of the staircase to bear him coun- 
tenance, and suddenly a lift glided up past 
him in this well. He had not noticed the 
ropes or the iron caging before. He heard 
the slamming of the lift doors above, and 
the dark carriage followed on its smooth 
descent. Christian reproached himself for 
not having rung the bell and questioned the 
lift-man. He considered the feasibility of 
doing it now, but was deterred by the fear 
that the man would resent it. Then the lift 
came up again — and was stopping at his 
floor. There was a sharp note of girlish 
laughter on the instant of the halt, answered 
by a male guffaw. 


367 


GLORIA MUNDI 


A slight, erect, active young woman 
emerged from the lift, her face alive with 
mirth of some unknown character. Behind 
her, in the obscurity, Christian saw for an 
instant the vanishing countenance of the lift- 
man, grinning widely. This hilarity, some- 
how, struck in him an unsympathetic chord. 

The young woman, still laughing, spread 
an uncomprehending glance over Christian 
and his flowers. She moved past him, key 
in hand, toward the door which he had been 
guarding, with a puzzled eye upon him 
meanwhile. With the key in the lock she 
turned and decided to speak. 

“What might all this be — the Temple 
Flower Show or the Crystal Palace?” she 
asked, with banter in her tone. 

“These are for Miss Bailey,” said Chris- 
tian, quite humbly. 

“Must be some mistake,” said the girl 
decisively. “Did she order them herself? 
Were you there at the time? Did you see 
her? Where do they come from?” 

Christian advanced a little into the light. 
“She has not ordered them,” he said, in his 
calmest voice. “I have not seen her for a 
long time. But I have brought them for 
her, and I think you may take it from me 
that they are hers. ’ * 

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she replied, 
368 


GLORIA MUNDI 

lightly but with grace. “I didn’t under- 
stand. Things are forever being brought 
here that belong somewhere else. Men are 
so stupid in finding their way about! Well 
— I suppose we must get them inside. That 
is your idea, isn’t it?” 

She spoke very rapidly, and with a kind of 
metallic snap in her tones. Christian 
answered her questions by a suave assenting 
gesture. “Miss Bailey is not likely to turn 
up much before half-past nine,” she went 
on, as if he had made the inquiry. “She 
lives so far out, and just now we’re not very 
busy. There’s nothing doing in new plays 
at this time of the year, and the lady novel- 
ists are all getting their own typewriters. If 
you’ll lend a hand, we’ll carry the things in. ” 

Between them they bore in the various 
pots, and the big bouquets loosely wrapped in 
blue paper. The girl led the way through a 
large working-room to a smaller apartment, 
fitted as an office but containing also a sofa 
and a tall gas cooking-stove — and here on 
desk and center-table, chairs and window- 
sill, they placed the flowers. Christian 
watched her as she deftly removed their 
paper wrappings. She had a comely, small 
face of aspect at once alert and masterful. 
The skin was peculiarly fair, with a tinge 
of rose in the cheeks so delicately modulated 
369 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that he found it in rivalry with the “Mrs. 
Pauls” she was unpacking. Her light hair 
was drawn plainly down over the temples in 
a fashion which he felt was distinguished, 
but said to himself he did not like. Her 
shrewd eyes took calm cognizance of him 
from time to time. 

“They are very beautiful indeed,” she 
remarked with judicial approval, upon the 
completion of her task. Then, as upon an 
afterthought, she moved rapidly about, 
peering under the branches of the growing 
plants, and separating the cut flowers lightly 
with her hands. “There is no card any- 
where, is there? I suppose you will want to 
leave a message? Here are pen and ink — 
if you wish to write anything.” 

“Thank you,” Christian began, smilingly 
but with obvious hesitation. He looked at 
his watch. “If you don’t mind — if you’re 
quite sure I shan’t be in the way — I think I 
should like to wait till Miss Bailey comes.” 

“Oh, you won’t be in the way,” the girl 
replied. She regarded him meditatively, 
with narrowed eyes. “I shouldn’t dust this 
room in any event — since the flowers are 
here; but you mustn’t come out into the big 
room — unless you want to get choked with 
blacks. Would you like a morning paper? 
I can send a boy out for one.” 

370 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Thank you — you are very good — no,” 
Christian answered. “There are some books 
here — I shall amuse myself.” 

The girl turned to leave him, and then on 
second thought moved over to the window 
and lifted the sash. “There’ll be no objec- 
tion to your smoking if you like,” she 
informed him. Then she went out, closing 
the door behind her. 

Christian walked to the window in turn, 
and looked down over the flowers to the 
narrow street below. It was full of young 
men in silk hats, toiling up the granite 
ascent like black ants. He reflected that 
they must be clerks and shopmen, going to 
their daily work from the Temple station or 
the Embankment. The suggestion of monot- 
onous bondage which their swarming prog- 
ress toward the wage-earning center gave 
forth, interested him. He yawned pleasur- 
ably at the thought of his own superb 
emancipation from duties and tasks of all 
descriptions. 

He strolled over to the bookcase above the 
desk, and glanced at the volumes revealed 
through its glass doors. They seemed very 
serious books, indeed. * ‘ Economics of Social- 
ism,” “Capitalist Production,” “The Ethics 
oi Socialism,” “Towards Democracy” — so 
the titles ran that first met his eye. There 


371 


GLORIA MUNDI 


were other groups — mainly of history and 
the essayists — but everything was sub- 
stantial. His glance sought in vain any light- 
some gleam of poetry or fiction. The legend 
on a thin red book, “Civilization: Its Cause 
and Cure,” whimsically caught his attention. 
He put his hand to the key in the bookcase 
door to get out the volume ; then, hesitating, 
j^awned, and looked over the shelves once 
more. There was nothing else — and really 
he desired to read nothing. 

He would half recline in comfort upon the 
sofa instead, until his friend came. As a 
pleasing adjunct to this plan, he drew the 
table up close, and found room upon it, by 
crowding them together, for most of the 
flowers that had been bestowed elsewhere. 
He seated himself at his ease, with his head 
resting against the wall, and surveyed the 
plants and blossoms in affectionate admira- 
tion. It was delicious to think how naive 
her surprise would be — how great her 
pleasure! Truly, since his discovery of his 
birthright, remarkable and varied as had 
been his experiences, he had done nothing 
else which afforded him a tithe of the satis- 
faction he felt now glowing in all his veins. 
Here, at last, by some curious and devious 
chance, he had stumbled upon the thing that 
was genuinely worth doing, 

372 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He could hear the cheerful girl in the next 
room, whistling gently to herself as she 
moved the furniture about. There came 
presently the sound of other female voices, 
and then a sustained, vibrant rattle, quaintly 
accentuated like the ticking of a telegraph 
key, which he grew accustomed to, and even 
found pleasant to the ear. 

He put his feet up on the edge of the sofa 
— and nestled downward till his head was 
upon it as well. A delicate yet pervasive 
fragrance from the table close beside him 
aroused his languid curiosity. Was it the 
perfume of carnations or of roses? 

He closed his eyes the better to decide. 


373 



/ 






. Wf • ■ ' ‘ ' V A ■ : im 


CHAPTER XVIII 


In the outer room, Miss Connie Staples 
permitted herself numerous and varied 
speculations as to the identity and purposes 
of the young man with the flowers, the while 
she dusted the typewriters, distributed the 
copy for the morning’s start and set the 
place in order. She had her sleeves rolled 
up, and had wound a big handkerchief about 
her hair; beneath this turban her forehead 
scored itself in lines of perplexed wonder- 
ment as to this curious early caller — but 
when two other girls arrived, she suffered 
them to put aside their things and begin work 
without so much as hinting at what had 
happened. A third girl, coming a little 
later, brought in a stray blossom which she 
had picked up in the corridor outside. She 
mentioned the fact, and even laid stress 
upon it, but got no syllable of explanation. 

This was all simple enough, but at half-past 
nine the arrival of still another of the sex put 
Miss Connie’s resources to an unexpected test. 

A handsome, youngish woman, very well 
dressed indeed, appeared suddenly upon the 
375 


GLORIA MUNDI 


threshold of the workroom, knocking upon 
the door and pushing it wide open at the 
same instant. She looked curiously about, 
and then point-blank into the face of the girl 
who came toward her. It was a glance of 
independent and impersonal criticism which 
the two exchanged, covering with instan- 
taneous swiftness an infinitude of details as 
to dress, coiffure, complexion, figure, tem- 
perament and origin. Connie wondered if 
the new-comer was really quite a lady, long 
before she formulated an inquiring thought 
about her errand. Even as she finally looked 
this question of business, she decided that it 
was an actress with a play for the provinces, 
and asked herself if she did not seem to 
recognize the face. The visitor, for her 
part, saw that Connie’s teeth were too 
uneven to be false, and that her waist was 
overlong, and that her hair was not thick 
enough to be worn flat over the temples, 
much less to justify so confident a manner. 
In all, something less than a second of time 
had elapsed. 

“I want to see Miss Bailey — Miss Frank 
Bailey,” explained the stranger, graciously. 

Connie conveyed to her, with courteous 
brevity, the fact that Miss Bailey had not 
yet arrived. ‘‘Is it something that I can 
do?” she added. 


376 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The other shook her head, and showed an 
affable thread of white between her fresh- 
hned lips. “No, I will wait for her,” she 
answered, and threw a keen glance about 
the place. “That’s her private room, isn’t 
it?” she asked, nodding at the closed door 
to the right. “I will wait in there,” she 
decided, in the same breath, and began 
moving toward it. 

Connie alertly headed her off. “If you 
will kindly take a seat here — ” she inter- 
posed, standing in front of her visitor. 

“It’s too noisy out here,” remarked the 
other; “those horrid machines would give 
me a headache. That is her private room, 
isn’t it?” 

“Unfortunately,” Connie began, lowering 
her voice, “the room belongs to another 
office. Or rather, I should say, it is locked. 
Miss Bailey will be here — with the key — 
very shortly now. ’ ’ 

“Oh, it’s all right — I'm her sister,” 
explained the other, in no wise resenting the 
ineffectual fabrications. She pushed for- 
ward past the reluctant girl with a resolute 
step, and put her hand on the knob of the 
tabooed door. “Make your mind quite 
easy, my dear,” she remarked over her 
shoulder, sinking her voice in turn in defer- 
ence to the situation; “you’ve done all 
377 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that could be expected of you — and I’ll tell 
her so.” 

Then, with a momentary gleam of good 
nature on her pretty face, which the short 
transparent veil she wore to her chin seemed 
to accentuate rather than mask, she opened 
the door, threw up her head with a swift, 
puzzled glance at what she saw, and then 
tiptoed gracefully into the room, closing the 
door with painstaking noiselessness behind 
her. 

Miss Frances Bailey entered her office not 
many minutes later, her cheeks aglow with 
the morning air as the wheelwoman meets 
it. She nodded cheerfully to Connie, and 
beyond her to the girls at the machines, as 
her hand sought for a hat-pin at the back of 
her head. 

“Any word from the Lyceum?” she asked. 
“And what does that Zambesi-travel manu- 
script make?” 

Connie ignored industrial topics. “There 
are people waiting in there to see you, ’ * she 
announced, in low, significant tones. 

The mistress was impressed by the sug- 
gestion of mystery. “People? What peo- 
ple?” she asked, knitting her brows. 

“One of them says she’s your sister. And 
the other is a young gentleman — he came 
first — and he brought — ” 

378 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“My sister?” interrupted Miss Bailey. 
“Cora! Something dreadful must have 
happened — for she never got out so early as 
this before in her life. Is she in mourning? 
Did she seem upset?” 

“ Not a bit of it!” said Connie, reassur- 
ingly. She added, following the other 
toward the private office : “I tried my best 
to keep her out here.” 

“Why should you?” asked Frances, with 
wide-open eyes. 

“Oh, well — you’ll see,” replied the girl, 
evasively. “I told you there was some one 
else in there.” 

Frances opened the door — and Connie 
noted that she too lifted her head and stared 
a little, and then cautiously closed the door 
behind her. She pondered this as she returned 
to her machine, and she curled her thin lip 
when she took up the copies of the first act 
of an amateur’s romantic play, to under- 
score the business directions with red ink, 
and sew on brown paper covers. Intuition 
told her that a much better drama was afoot, 
here under her very nose. 

Inside her office, Miss Bailey surrendered 
herself to frank astonishment at what she 
beheld. 

Bestowed in obvious discomfort upon her 
sofa, behind an extraordinary bank of potted 
379 


GLORIA MUNDI 


plants and bright, costly greenhouse flowers, 
was a young man fast asleep. Her eye 
took in as well her sister, who sat near the 
head of the sofa, but she could wait. The 
interest centered in this sleeping stranger, 
who made himself so much at home in the 
shelter of his remarkable floral barricade. 
She moved round the better to scrutinize 
his face, w r hich was tilted up as if proudly 
held even in slumber. Upon examination 
she recognized the countenance; and in a 
swift moment of concentration tried to think 
what his presence might signify. Then she 
turned to her sister, and lifted her calm brows 
in mute inquiry. 

“Oh, my dear — what splendid business!’* 
whispered Cora, her glance beaming upward 
from the sofa to the standing figure. “And 
mind, Frank, I’m in it! I’m in it up to 
my neck ! I sent him to you, dear. ’ ’ 

The girl looked down at them both, and 
deliberated before she spoke. “If you 
brought him here,” she said, “I think you’d 
better take him away again. I can let you 
out by this other door. Let us have no 
more publicity than necessary.” 

“But you don’t in the least understand!” 
protested Cora, with her finger raised in an 
appeal for quiet tones. 

“No, I don’t understand. I don’t want 
380 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to understand,” replied Frances coldly. 
“There’s one thing you don’t understand 
either, Cora : This is my typewriting office ; 
it isn’t a greenroom at all.” 

“Then it well might be,” retorted the 
other, with a latent grin. “Anything 
greener than its owner I never saw. Now 
listen — don’t be a silly cuckoo! I met the 
youngster last night — and I worked him up 
till he was mad to learn where you were to 
be found. I told him — and then I went 
home, and I couldn’t sleep for thinkin’ of 
you, dear — and so I turned out at some 
extraordinary hour this mornin’ — it is 
mornin’ by this time, isn’t it? — and I came 
here, just to tell you that he was askin’ 
after you — and I come in here — and lo! 
here’s the bird on his little nest! — and see 
the flowers he’s brought from Covent Garden 
for you ! — and so I sit here like Patience on 
a monument, afraid to wink an eyelash, so’s 
not to wake him till you come. That’s what 
I’ve done for you , dear — and presently, if 
you don’t mind, I’d like to hear what you’ll 
do for me.” 

Frances put a knee upon the chair before 
her, and rested with her hands upon its back. 
She sighed a little, and bit her lips. A 
troubled look came into her gray eyes. 

“You might as well say all you have to 

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GLORIA MUNDI 


say,” she said, slowly. “I don’t in the least 
see what you’re up to — but then I never 
did. ’ ’ 

“No, dear, you never did,” responded 
Cora, smiling as if in pleased retrospect. 
“Rut that’s no reason why I shouldn’t be a 
good sister to you. If it’s one’s nature to 
be a good sister, why, then one will be — and 
there you are, don’t you see? I take no 
credit to myself for it.” 

‘ ‘ Go on, ’ * said the other. The two women 
spoke in hushed whispers, and with each 
sentence stole glances of precaution toward 
the sleeper. 

“Well, Frank, I look to you not to forget 
what I’ve done. I spent two or three very 
hard hours last night talkin’ him round, and 
singin’ your praises to him — and I put 
Covent Garden into his head, too — and here 
he is! And I kept Eddy and Gus off his 
back, too — they were frightfully keen to get 
at him — but I said no, and I held ’em to 
heel. It was all for you, dear. They might 
have queered the whole pitch, if I’d given 
’em their heads. But now about myself. 
I’m tired, dead tired, of bein’ poor. Of 
course we get a little something from Lord 
Julius. But Eddy — you know what Eddy is! 
No sooner does he pick himself up from 
Epsom than Ascot gives him a fair knock- 
382 


GLORIA MUNDI 


out, and if he lives through the Sandown 
Eclipse there’s Goodwood waitin’ for him 
with a facer. I can’t understand it; other 
men seem to win sometimes — you’d think 
the unluckiest duffer would get a look-in 
once in a while — but no, he just gets 
hammered one meeting after another. And 
I’m tired of it, Frank! If I could only go 
back to work ! But if I get an engagement, 
then Eddy will go playin’ the goat — he’s 
jealous of everybody about the place from 
the bandmaster down to the carpenter’s boy 
— and that makes me unpopular — and there 
we are, don’t you see! I’m worn out with 
it. But if I could have eight hundred a 
year, or even six hundred or five at a pinch — 
God knows, my wants are simple enough ! — 
and have it paid to me personally, do you see 
— why, then, life would be worth livin’. 
Now, what do you say?” 

Frances looked moodily down at her dis- 
tinguished sister, her lips twisted in stormy 
amusement. “Why not say a thousand and 
be done with it?” she demanded between set 
teeth, after an ominous pause. “One would 
be as intelligent as the other. And oughtn’t 
I to set your Eddy up with a racing stud while 
I'm about it? It’s true that I have about 
twenty pounds a year for my own personal 
use, and Tom has a standing grievance that 
383 


GLORIA MUNDI 


I don’t give even that to him — but don’t let 
that interfere with your plans. Whatever 
you feel that you would like, just give it a 
name. Couldn’t I lease one of the new 
Kaffir mansions in Park Lane for you? Or 
would you prefer something in Grosvenor 
Square?” 

Cora gazed up with such intentness at her 
unnatural sister that a bright little tear 
came to shine at the corner of each eye. 
She put up her veil then, and breathed a 
cautious sigh. “I didn’t expect this of you, 
dear,” she said, submissively. “Of course 
it’s the old story — La Cigale, and ‘go-to-the 
ant-thou-sluggard’ and all that. I don’t 
see myself why a typewriting machine should 
make one so fearfully stony-hearted; you 
get callouses on your fingers, I know, but 
you needn’t get ’em on your sisterly affec- 
tions, one would think. But however” — 
she wiped her eyes, drew down her veil and 
allowed a truculent note to sound in her 
voice — ‘‘however, if you won’t play, why 
then neither will I. I’ve been at pains to put 
this youngster in your way, but it won’t be 
much trouble to shunt him out again. You 
mustn’t think you can walk on me indefi- 
nitely, Frank. I’m the best-natured woman 
in the world, but even I draw the line some- 
where,” 


384 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Draw it now then,” said the other, with 
stern promptitude. “Go away, and take 
your friend with you and let me get to my 
work. I don’t know what business either of 
you had coming here, at all. ” As she spoke, 
she moved to the outer private door, and 
turned the key in the lock. “You can send 
for the flowers,” she added, “or I will have 
them taken over to Charing Cross Hospital — 
whichever you like.” 

Cora rose, her veiled face luminous with a 
sudden inspiration. “You can’t quarrel with 
me, dear, no matter how hard you try.” 
She spoke in low, cooing tones — a triumph 
of sympathetic voice production. “You’re 
hard as nails, but I know you're straight. 
I will trust my interests absolutely in your 
hands. I leave it to you to do the fair 
thing by me. ” 

“The fair thing?” echoed Frances, in 
dubious perplexity. She puzzled over the 
words and their elusive implication. “Your 
interests?” she repeated — and saw Cora 
move round her to the unlocked door, and 
open it — and still sought to comprehend 
what it was all about. Only when her sister, 
smiling cordially once more, bent forward 
without warning and pressed her veiled lips 
against her chin, and with a gentle “Good- 
bye, dear!” stepped into the shadows with- 
385 


GLORIA MUNDI 


out, did she recall the other features of the 
situation. 

“Here!” she called, with nervous eager- 
ness, yet keeping her voice down, “you’re 
not to run off like this. Take your man with 
you. ’ ’ 

“Softly, dear!” Cora enjoined her, from 
the dusk of the hallway. “Your young 
women wouldn’t understand. No — I caught 
him for you, and I leave him in your hands. 
I’m not in the least afraid to trust it all to 
you. Bye-bye, dear.” 

Frances went out and glared down the 
staircase, with angry expostulation on her 
tongue’s end. But there was nobody to talk 
to. She could hear only the brisk rustle of 
Cora’s skirts on the stone steps, a floor 
below— and even that died away beneath the 
clatter of the machines inside. 

Returning over the threshold, she paused, 
and looked impatiently at the flowers, and 
at the impassive, slumbering face beyond 
them. After a little, the lines of vexation 
began to melt from her brow. In a musing 
way, she put a hand behind her, and as if 
unconsciously closed and locked the hall 
door again. Then she moved to the table, 
picked up some of the loose blossoms and 
breathed in their fragrance, still keeping her 
thoughtful gaze upon the young man. She 
386 


GLORIA MUNDI 


found the face much older and stronger than 
she remembered it — and in a spirit of fair- 
ness she said to herself that it seemed no 
whit less innocent. But then perhaps all 
sleeping faces looked innocent; she could 
recall that Cora’s certainly did. Holding 
the carnations to her lips and nostrils, 
she examined in meditative detail the 
countenance before her — delicately modeled, 
dark, nervously high-spirited even in repose. 
Associations came back as she gazed — the 
tender eagerness of the lad, the wistful 
charm with which his fancy had invested 
England, the frank sweetness of the tem- 
perament he had disclosed to her. He had 
been like a flower himself on that mellow 
autumn day — as fresh and as goodly to the 
eye as these roses on the table. But a 
winter had intervened since then — and what 
gross disillusionments, what roughening 
and hardening and corroding experiences 
had he not encountered! You could not tell 
anything by a face in sleep; again she 
assured herself of that. 

Why, when one came to think of it, it was 
enough that Cora had brought him — or sent 
him, it mattered not which. Whence had 
she dispatched him? — from some theatrical 
dance or late supper. It was true that he 
was not in evening dress — and the thought 
387 


GLORIA MUNDI 


gave her pause for a moment. But he had 
been at some place where those wretched 
cousins of his were present — for Cora had 
spoken of keeping both Eddy and Gus “off 
his back” — whatever that might mean. 
And it was Cora herself who had told him 
to go to Covent Garden and buy these 
flowers ! 

Frances, revolving these unpleasant reflec- 
tions, discovered all at once that the young 
man, without betraying by any other motion 
his awakening, had opened his eyes and was 
looking placidly across the flowers into her 
face. 

She caught a quick breath, and frowned 
slightly at him. 


388 


CHAPTER XIX 


“I don’t think I like your being here,” 
Frances remarked to the young man after a 
brief frowning inspection. She spoke slowly, 
and with a deliberate gravity and evenness 
of tone. 

Christian’s wide-open eyes continued to 
gaze up at her with that disconcerting look 
which had in it both remote abstraction and 
something very intimately personal. His 
glance expressed a tender pleasure as it 
maintained itself against hers. 

“Oh, but I like it so very much!” he 
murmured, with a pleading smile. 

Then, by a sudden movement, he sat up, 
flushing in a novel embarrassment. “I beg 
you to pardon me, ” he urged, faltering over 
his words. “I was not wholly awake, I 
think; or I was trying to persuade myself 
that it was still a dream. Do not think me 
so rude, I pray you ! ’ ’ 

She signified by a gesture and momentary 
facial relaxation that this particular detail of 
the situation need not detain them. 

“But” — she began, in her stiffest and least 
389 


GLORIA MUNDI 


amiable voice, and then hesitated. She put 
her knee again upon the chair, and, resting 
her hand on its back, looked dubiously at 
him. “I hardly know what to say,” she 
started once more, and stopped altogether. 

“Oh, but it is I who must say everything, ” 
he broke in, eagerly. ‘‘I am quite awake 
now — I see, of course, it is all absurd, mean- 
ingless in your eyes, till I explain it to you. ’ ’ 
He rose to his feet and put forth his hand 
as if to offer it in greeting. No responsive 
token being visible on her set face, or in 
her rigid posture, as she confronted him, he 
waved both hands in a deprecatory move- 
ment over the table laden with flowers 
between them. ‘‘These are my peace-offer- 
ing,” he said, with less confidence. “I 
hoped they would say some things for me — 
some things which I feel within me, and can- 
not easily put into speech. That is what I 
expected they would surely do. But” — he 
finished with dejection, after another glance 
into her face — “evidently they are as tongue- 
tied as I am. I see it was not a happy 
thought in me to bring them — or to come 
myself!” 

She had followed his words with rapt 
attentiveness — but at the end seemed to 
remember only one of them. “The 
‘thought,’ ” she said, coldly. “Yes, that is 
390 


GLORIA MUNDI 


what I do not understand. What was the 
thought?” 

He regarded her with some perplexity. 
“What was the thought — my thought?” he 
repeated. “Oh — since it does not explain 
itself, what good is there in talking about it? 
Let us say that there was no ‘thought’ at 
all. I will make my compliments and 
apologies — and say good-morning — and 
nothing at all will have happened.” 

“No,” she answered reflectively. “That 
would be stupid. You have been to expense, 
and evidently to some inconvenience as well, 
to do this thing. On second thoughts,” she 
went on, with an apparent effort to modify 
the asperities of her tone and manner, “I 
dare say that I haven’t behaved quite nicely 
to you. If you remember, I told you a long 
time ago that bad manners was a failing of 
mine.” 

“I remember every little word that you 
spoke,” said Christian softly. 

Frances hardened her voice on the instant. 
“But that doesn’t help me to imderstand 
why — what this is all about. ’ ’ 

He responded slowly, searching for his 
words as he went along. The rattle of 
machines in the next room for the first time 
came into the conversation, and forced him 
to lift his voice. “You were my last friend 


39i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in France — my first friend in England,” he 
began. “I said I would not forget you, and 
you have been always in my mind — always 
somewhere secure and fresh and sweet in my 
mind. It was only last night that I learned 
where I might find you. You will remember 
that when I begged you to tell me, you 
laughed and would not. I must not make 
you believe that I did not very soon find out 
your name or that I could not have learned 
your whereabouts much earlier. All I say 
is that I did not forget — and that last night, 
when the chance came naturally to me, I 
asked and learned what I desired to know. 
And then — why, then — this knowledge 
spread upward to be of more importance than 
all the other things I knew. I went home — 
but never to think of sleeping, but only to 
change my clothes and hasten out again, to 
get some new morning flowers for you, and 
to come to you at the earliest moment. I 
did not know that London rose so late — I 
arrived before the time, and, so it seems, 
waiting for your coming, I fell asleep. That 
is the entire story. You see it is not very 
complicated — it is by no means extraordin- 
ary. ’ ’ 

Frances had listened with a dreamy 
gentleness in her gray eyes. She started 
slightly when he stopped, and gave him a 
392 


GLORIA MUNDI 


keen, cool glance. “The entire story?” she 
queried. “I think you have forgotten to 
mention that it was my sister who told you 
about me, and gave you my address.” 

Her prescience in no wise astonished 
Christian. Imagination had thrown round 
the Minerva-like figure which personified 
her in his thoughts, such a glamour of intel- 
lectual radiancy, that it seemed quite a 
natural thing for her to divine the obscure, 
and comprehend the mysterious. He smiled 
at her as he shrugged his shoulders. “It did 
not occur to me as important, ’ ’ he exclaimed. 
“It is true, however, that she told me. She 
did not know the address when I asked 
her, but later she procured it for me from 
her brother. It was at a supper at the Han- 
over Theater. Afterward there was dancing 
on the stage. I fear it would have been 
rather tiresome for me if I had not met your 
sister. She is a very friendly lady, and she 
talked a great deal to me.” 

“About me?” demanded Frances, sharply. 

“Oh, no — about you only a few pleasant 
words; not more. It seems you do not meet 
very often. ’ ’ 

He spoke with such evident frankness that 
she hesitated over the further inquiry her 
mind had framed. At last she put it in 
altered form. “Then you would not say 


393 


GLORIA MUND1 


that she sent you here — -that she told you to 
come — and to come by way of Covent 
Garden, and buy these flowers?” The ques- 
tion, as she uttered it, was full of significant 
suggestion about the nature of the reply 
desired. Its tone, too, carried the welcome 
hint of a softened mood, under the influence 
of which Christian’s face brightened with 
joy. 

“Why, not at all!” he cried, lifting his 
voice gaily above the typewriters’ clatter. 
“She did speak of Covent Garden, and the 
show of flowers there in the early morning, 
but it was not in the least with reference to 
you. It was my own idea long after she had 
gone. Oh, no one would be more surprised 
than that good sister of yours to know that 
I am here!” 

Frances, with a puzzling smile which ended 
in a long breath of relief, took up some 
of the roses and held them to her face. 

“Sit down again,” she bade him, with a 
pleasant glow in the eyes regarding him over 
the blossoms; “sit down, and let us talk. 
Or does that noise bore you?” 

“Oh, I am too glad!” he assured her, 
beamingly. “If it were cannon firing in the 
next room, it would be nothing to me.” 
Then, as he continued to gaze with delight 
at her, an inspiration came to him. “Or is 


394 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it possible for you to come out? Would you 
walk a little while, perhaps on the Embank- 
ment?” 

‘ ‘ I am not particularly busy this morning, ’ ’ 
she made indirect answer. Then a digres- 
sion occurred to her. “But I am rather sur- 
prised,” she observed, “to find that Eng- 
land hasn’t made more changes in your 
speech. I would have expected a perfect 
Piccadilly accent, but you talk exactly as you 
did on the train and the boat. ’ * 

He laughed and clapped his hands for 
glee. “It is wholly because I am with you 
again,” he declared. “Everybody has said 
for months that the foreign traces had quite 
vanished from my tongue — but the first 
glimpse of you — ah! they come instantly 
back ! It is the association of ideas, beyond 
doubt — that very sweet association,” he 
added, with trembling softness, “of oh! 
such fond ideas. ” 

She had taken up her hat. “We will go 
out for a little, if you like,” she remarked 
rather abruptly. 

“And I am altogether forgiven?” he 
demanded in high spirits, as he rose. “You 
consent to accept the flowers?” 

“Heaven only knows what I shall do with 
them,” she answered, with a grimace of 
mock despair. “But it was ever so nice of 
395 


GLORIA MUNDI 


you to get them, and I thank you very much. 
Oh, I must tell Connie to sprinkle them 
before I go. ” 

She moved to the inner door, and as she 
opened it turned. “Wouldn’t you like to 
come and see the factory at work?” she 
inquired, and he joined her with alacrity. 
“It isn’t much to see at the moment,” she 
explained, as they entered the large room. 
“We have nine machines, but only four of 
them are needed just now. Until after the 
Jubilee, I’m afraid things will be very dull 
with publishers and playwrights. However, 
one must take the lean with the fat.” 

Christian looked somewhat nervously about 
him, while his friend stepped aside to confer 
with the girl whom he remembered from 
the early morning. Both this young lady 
and the three at their machines made a rapid, 
and as it seemed to him, perfunctory survey 
of their mistress’s guest, and bent their 
attention upon their duties again as if his 
presence signified nothing whatever to them. 
He suspected that in reality they were 
plunged in furious speculation concerning 
him; and this embarrassed him so much 
that he turned and strolled back toward the 
open door and even entered the office before 
Frances rejoined him. 

When she came back to him, she took from 
396 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the table a couple of pale, half-opened tea- 
rose buds, gave one to him to fix in his 
lapel and pinned the other to the breast of 
her fawn-gray frock. “If you are ready,” 
she said, smilingly, and led the way to the 
staircase. As she descended before him, he 
noted the intelligent simplicity of this dress 
she wore — how it fitted her as gracefully 
and as artistically as Poole ever fitted Dicky 
Westland. About her hat, the carriage of 
her head and shoulders, the free decision of 
her step, there was something individual 
which appealed directly to him — a charm 
which would not be duplicated by any other 
person in the world. He looked at his watch 
as he went down, and found with surprise 
that it was nearly eleven. 

He stepped to her side at the street door- 
way, with a meaning gesture. “Do you 
remember,” he said, gently — “on the boat 
you took my arm?” 

“I think London is a little different,” she 
answered, decisively enough, yet with the 
effect to his ears of unreserved camaraderie. 

They walked slowly down to the end of 
the street. “Do you mind which way we 
go?” she asked him, and turned eastward. 
“I haven’t seen the city in an age,” she 
remarked, as if the choice needed explana- 
tion. Sauntering along, they found little to 


397 


GLORIA MUNDI 


say to each other at the outset. What words 
they exchanged were about the mild, sunless 
sky of the London April, and the wonderful 
pencilings and rubbings of soot upon the 
silver-gra) r of London’s stone walls. Learn- 
ing that he was a stranger to the Temple, 
she led the way through the gate and lane, 
and then, by turnings which it surprised 
him to find her knowing so well, to the 
curious little church. The door in the 
sunken porch was ajar, and they went in. 
She pointed to the circle of freestone 
Crusaders looking complacently up from the 
floor at the Oriental dome which had caught 
their traveled fancy ages before, and it 
occurred to her to say: “Is it not interesting 
to you to think that there were Torrs who 
were friends and companions of these very 
Magnavilles and Mareschalls, six hundred 
years ago?” 

He thrust out his lips a little. “I have 
not much interest in anything concerning 
the Torrs,” he answered. 

She looked up at him with curiosity, but 
offered no comment. They left the church, 
and she led him round to the spot where, 
amid the cracked old flags from forgotten 
graves, Oliver Goldsmith’s tomb now finds 
itself. A crumbling wreath of natural 
flowers showed that some kindly soul had 
398 


GLORIA MUNDI 


remembered the date of the poet’s death, 
three weeks before. 

Christian displayed scarcely more interest 
here. “I have not read his ‘Vicar of Wake- 
field,’ ” he confessed to her. “I had always 
the intention to do so, but it — it never came 
off.” 

“That brings me to one thing I wanted to 
ask you,” she said, as they retraced their 
steps. “What books have you been read- 
ing — since you came to England? I am 
anxious to know?” 

“Not many,” he admitted with an 
attempted laugh which ended rather shame- 
facedly. “Reading did not fit itself very 
readily into my time. At Lord Chobham’s 
I read in some old books, and at Emanuel’s 
too, but it was all about our own people — 
the Barons’ War, and the Wars of the Roses, 
and the Civil War. I know something about 
these and about the old families of the West, 
but not much else. I should have read more, 
I know, but there was really not much 
opportunity. But you— I saw at your office 
what serious books you read. It is what I 
should like to do, too — sometimes. But 
there has been no one to talk with about any 
kind of books. ” 

They had come out again to the Embank- 
ment, and made their pace now even more 
399 


GLORIA MUNDI 


deliberate. “I have been thinking a great 
deal about you, and your future, since we 
met,” she remarked, after a pause. “It has 
made me wonder what you would do, when 
the opportunity came to you — and what it 
would be open for you to do. That is why 
I began reading the books that I take it you 
have in mind — but afterward I read them 
for their own value. At the beginning’ ’ — 
she went on slowly, studying the sky-line in 
an abstracted way as she walked — “at the 
beginning I thought I should see you again 
sometime, and I had the idea that I wanted 
to be able to advise — or no, not that, but to 
talk to you, and try to interest you in the 
right sort of things. But it did not take me 
long to see how foolish that was. ’ ’ 

“No, no!” urged Christian ; without, how- 
ever, any convincing display of enthusiasm. 
“There is no one in the world from whom I 
will so gladly take advice as you.” 

She smiled fleetingly at him. “And 
there is no one in the world,” she replied, 
“more firmly resolved not to offer you 
any.” 

“Ah, but if I beg it! You may not offer 
— but will you refuse to give?” 

“What is the good?” she broke forth in a 
louder tone, speaking as if in annoyed 
reproof to herself. “No person can think 


400 


GLORIA MUNDI 


or feel or decide for another ! It is nonsense 
to pretend otherwise. A man must think 
his own thoughts, follow his own nature! 
We can ask nothing finer of a man than to 
honestly be himself. I get so angry at all 
these ceaseless attempts to run people all 
into one mold, to make everybody like 
everybody else — and then, here I was, 
solemnly starting out to do the very trick 
myself!” She laughed in ironical self- 
depreciation at the thought 

Christian drew closer to her side. “I have 
very many things to say to you, ’ ’ he began 
gravely. “But I am in one way sorry that 
we went into the churchyard, because it has 
made us melancholy, and I was going to tell 
it all to you in the highest good spirits. We 
were both laughing like merry children 
when we left your place — and now we are 
sad. I like Emanuel’s idea — he will have 
no tombs to be seen upon his estate. Death 
will come there as elsewhere, without doubt, 
but he will not be allowed to remain hang- 
ing about, thrusting his ugly presence upon 
happy people each time they walk in the 
street. At Emanuel’s there is cremation — 
and that is the end of it. That is the portion 
of his System which pleases me most. It is 
the best thing in it.” 

She looked into his face. “Then you are 


401 


GLORIA MUNDI 


not wildly in love with his whole System?” 
she asked. 

“Me? I grieve to say not. It is no doubt 
very admirable indeed — but — how shall I 
say? — it does not appeal to me. You are 
displeased with me for confessing it — but — ” 

“Displeased?” she interrupted him, with 
a meaning laugh. “Nothing could displease 
me less!” 

“Oh, you do not love the System?” he 
cried, with dancing eyes. 

“I hate it!” she answered, briefly. 

“Capital!” He halted, to shake her by 
the hand with gay effusion. “Let us abuse 
it together! You shall say it all, however, 
because I only dislike it, and cannot give any 
reasons why — but you will know them every 
one. Oh, this is splendid! I had the right 
instinct when I came to you ! I have a great 
deal to tell you — but first you must tell me : 
what do you say about my cousin’s System? 
I am burning to hear that. ’ ’ 

It was impossible to evade the contagion 
of his sparkling face. She laughed in turn. 

‘ ‘ Oh, it would be too long a story, ’ ’ she half 
protested. “But to put it briefly, this is my 
idea. Emanuel seems to me to be a magnifi- 
cent character, with one extraordinary limita- 
tion. I think it must be a Jewish limitation 
— for I have seen it pointed out that they do 
402 


GLORIA MUNDI 


not invent things. That is Emanuel’s flaw; 
he has not an original thought in his head. 
He merely carries to a mathematical point of 
expansion and development the ready-made 
ideas which he finds accepted all about him. 
What you see in him is a triumph of the 
Semitic passion for working a problem 
out to its ultimate conclusion. When 
you consider it, what has he done? Merely 
discovered, by tremendous labor and 
energy, the smoothest possible working 
arrangement of the social system which 
his class regards as best for itself, and 
hence for all mankind — the system which 
exalts a chosen few, and keeps all the rest 
in subjection. My dear sir, things do not 
rise higher than their source ! How did the 
Torrs come by their estates? By stealing 
the birthright of thousands of dumb human 
beasts of burden, and riveting the family 
collar round their necks with no more regard 
for their wishes or their rights than as if 
they had been so many puppies or colts. 
And what was the origin of the Ascarel 
fortune? The most frightful and blood- 
stained human slavery in the poisonous 
jungles of the Dutch East Indies — that, and 
an ancient family business of international 
usury, every dirty penny in which if you 
followed it far enough, meant the flaying- 


403 


GLORIA MUNDI 


alive of a peasant, or the starvation of his 
little children. These are the things which 
your cousin inherits. He is fine enough to 
be ashamed of them, but he is not broad 
enough to repudiate them. He makes him- 
self believe that they were wrong only in 
degree. He will admit that the Torrs were 
too brutal toward their serfs, the Ascarels 
too selfish with their millions. That is all. 
And he sets himself to proving that with the 
right kind of chief at their head these sys- 
tems of theirs can be made not only respect- 
able, but even profitable to the slaves as well 
as the master. He does not see that the 
systems themselves are crimes!” 

“Yes, I am glad that I came to you, ” said 
Christian, in low, earnest tones, in the pause 
which followed. The girl, breathing deeply 
under the fervor of her mood, looked fixedly 
before her toward the copper-haze above 
Paul’s dome. He watched the noble 
immobility of her profile and thrilled at its 
suggestion of strength. 

“To do him justice,” she went on, mus- 
ingly, “he does not pretend that it is prog- 
ress. He is honest, and he describes it as 
reaction — a long step backward. It is just 
that kind of honesty and devotion, plus 
wrong-headedness, which keeps us all at 
sixes and sevens. If we agree that there is 


404 


GLORIA MUNDI 


no better-intentioned man alive than Eman- 
uel — still he would do more harm than the 
most atrocious blackguard, if he had his way 
with the world. But fortunately, he will 
not have it. A vastly greater and loftier 
Jew has said that you cannot pour new wine 
into old bottles.” 

They walked on for a little in silence. 
“Have you been to Emanuel’s place then?” 
Christian asked at last. 

“No; I know it only from hearsay, and 
from his books. A woman novelist for 
whom I do work has been there, and she 
has told me a good deal about it. She is 
going to use it in a book, and would you 
believe it? she is crazy with enthusiasm 
about the whole thing. I tried to point out 
to her what she was doing, but you might 
as well talk to the east wind. The way 
women run after the hand that smites them, 
and beslaver it with kisses — that is the thing 
that enrages me most of all. Why, the very 
corner-stone of Emanuel’s System is the 
perpetual enslavement of women. I am 
always surprised, when I hear about his 
mediaeval arrangements, that he hasn’t set 
up a ducking-stool for his women-folk. I’m 
sure it’s a pure oversight on his part. Well, 
what are you to expect when cultivated 
women like Mrs. Sessyl-Trant turn up as 


GLORIA MUNDI 


frantic admirers of that sort of thing? How- 
ever, thank goodness, women are not forever 
to be sold out by the fools of their own sex. 
It is impossible not to see that the tide has 
turned at last. There is a change — and I 
think something genuine and lasting is going 
to come out of it. I really think it!” 

“Ah, that is what I feel,” put in Chris- 
tian, with confused eagerness. “I have no 
clear thoughts about it, but it is my deep 
feeling that — that — what shall I say? — we 
are most at fault in the matter of the 
women.” 

Frances pursued her thought, in frowning 
meditation. “It is the new professional 
class, who earn their own living, who will 
help us out. These women, who have come 
through the mill of self-responsibility, will 
not accept the old nonsense invented for 
them, and imposed upon them by the women 
parasites. The younger women who take 
care of themselves have all begun to ask 
questions: ‘Why should I do this?’ ‘Why 
shouldn’t I do that?’ ‘And whose business' 
but my own is it if I do the other?’ Unfortu- 
nately, they are too ready to accept the first 
answer that comes to them. Oh, that is the 
woeful trouble ! Men have slowly built up 
for themselves a good deal of machinery by 
which they can find out what is true. I 
406 


GLORIA MUNDI 


don’t say they are not continually deceived, 
or that they invariably recognize the truth 
when they see it, but still they have certain 
facilities for protecting themselves against 
falsehoods. But women have practically 
none at all. They are systematically lied to 
from their cradle to their grave. They read 
so hard ! — they are the consumers of novels, 
religious books, weekly newspapers, maga- 
zines, and the rest of it — but never a word 
of actual truth is allowed to reach them out 
of it all. Wherever they turn to inquire 
about themselves, about their rights and 
their duties in this world that they have 
been born into, they encounter this vast, 
unbroken conspiracy of liars. That is the 
gravest of all the disadvantages they labor 
under. Why, take even the ‘New Woman’ 
fiction of a few years ago. There was a 
great hullabaloo raised over certain novels ; 
at last, they cried, the truth was being 
revealed by women, for women, of women. 
But what nonsense ! It turned out not to be 
the truth at all, but only the old falsehood, 
disguised in hysterics and some shocking bad 
manners. There seems no escape for women 
anywhere. They are lied to by their parents, 
their parsons, their doctors, their authors — 
and of course they lie to one another. They 
have a whole debased currency of insincere 


407 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ities and flattering falsehoods which they 
pass among themselves, keeping straight 
faces all the while as if it were honest 
money. — But as I said, I think a change is 
coming. - However, don’t let’s talk any more 
about it. I get too angry ! ’ ’ 

“I like you to be angry — only not with 
me,” commented Christian with a sprightly 
smile. Then he added, more gravely, “Oh, 
I can see how the women who work will 
make a change. It was very curious to me 
to see those girls at the machines in your 
office. It was one of them who let me 
in, before you came. She was quite differ- 
ent from any of the English women I have 
been meeting. One saw that she had 
thoughts of her own — an atmosphere of her 
own. I should not like to tell lies to her; I 
think she would detect them more rapidly 
than I could get them out.” 

“Oh, Connie,” laughed Frances. “Yes, 
she has a head on her shoulders. They are 
all fairly bright girls, and they get on 
together extremely well. It’s quite their 
own idea to divide up the work equally 
among the lot, and when there is not much 
doing to take turns in working alter- 
nate days. I think it was rather fine of 
them.” 

“Ah, that is the class of women one would 
40S 


GLORIA MUNDI 


like to help,” he declared. “That is what I 
will devote myself to.” 

“But it is the class which prefers to help 
itself,” she explained quietly. “I see no 
way in which you could ‘help’ them, as you 
call it. They don’t want any help. Men 
in their position might take tips, but these 
girls won’t.” As he received the rebuff in 
silence, she changed the subject. “I am 
meeting now some other young women who 
would interest you. They are doing news- 
paper work — and doing it on its merits, too, 
and not by the favoritism of editors and 
proprietors — and one or two evenings a week 
we all get together at my office and talk 
things over. Sometimes there are as many 
as twenty of us, including my girls. In a 
year or two, perhaps it will run to a club- 
room of our own. I don’t know that I told 
you — I am getting into newspaper work my- 
self. If I saw how to combine it with my 
office business, I could have a place on a 
regular daily staff. I’m puzzling a good deal 
to find some way of making the two things 
go together. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I envy you!” broke in Christian, 
impulsively. “You have work to do! You 
are interested in your work! You find in it 
not only occupation, but the opportunities 
of being useful to others, and of making 
409 


GLORIA MUNDI 


your life, and other people’s lives, worth 
living*. But think of me! I have nothing 
in the wide world to do, except wait for a 
very strong old man to die. And when he 
dies, then still I have nothing to do worth 
doing. Don’t you see that it is the most 
miserable of existences? I am filled with 
disgust for it. I cannot bear it another day. 
And that is what I was going to tell you. I 
have decided to leave it all — and go away.” 

Frances paused for a moment to scrutinize, 
with slightly narrowed eyes, the excited 
face he turned to her. “How will going 
away improve matters?” she asked him, 
upon reflection. 

He put out his lips, and shrugged his 
shoulders. ‘ ‘ At least I shall be a free man, ’ ’ 
he affirmed. 

Unconsciously she imitated his gesture in 
turn: “It does not follow that a deserter is 
necessarily a free man.” 

He ^flushed and winced visibly under the 
words, and turned away biting his lips. 
Then, the vexation clearing from his face, 
he wheeled again, and regarded her with 
calm gravity. 

“There is no one else who could say that 
to me and not injure me,” he answered, 
simply. “But that is the characteristic of 
you — when you say such a thing to me, then 


410 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it becomes a thing that should have been 
said. Yet perhaps it is not the final word, 
after all. Ask yourself what it is that I am 
deserting! Consider whether I should give 
up or gain something. Here in England it 
is possible for me to be one of two things — 
the conventional person of position like all 
the others, or the exceptional kind of being 
which Emanuel desires to make of me. I 
have been at school for half a year learning 
what it is that society in general expects a 
man in my situation to do. Now that I have 
learned it, frankly it makes me sick at heart. 
But then I have been at another school for 
a month, observing and studying what it is 
that Emanuel wishes me to undertake. We 
have agreed that that is not to be thought 
of, either. Then what am I to do?” 

“But how does running away solve the 
difficulty?” She put the question to him 
with gentle persistency. 

“Ah, but, you see,” he rejoined, argu- 
mentatively, “it is not alone a moral diffi- 
culty. There are practical questions, too. 
When I announce to Emanuel that I reject 
his plans for my future, then I am left to 
myself to be that most ridiculous of objects 
— a man with a great station and no money 
to keep it up. That is what I must be here 
in England. But in other countries, that 


GLORIA MUNDI 


will not be the case. There will always be 
enough money for me to live like a prince 
upon — so long as I travel about, in my own 
yacht if I like, or reside simpty and happily 
in the beautiful places of the earth, here and 
there, as the fancy possesses me. Thus I 
can put to use the prestige of my title, when 
it is of advantage to do so — but only in so 
far as it is needful at the moment — and at 
the same time it does not become a burden 
to me in any degree. Now think carefully 
of this — is it not the wisest course for me?” 

She seemed not to pause for thought at 
all. “Oh, that depends upon how you 
define wisdom,” she replied, promptly. 
“There is the wisdom of the serpent, but 
fortunately there are many other kinds. 
No, I must say, you haven’t convinced me 
in the least. However, you mustn’t think 
that is of importance. You are under no 
obligation to convince me, surely!” 

“Ah, but that is everything to me,” he 
insisted. “There are reasons — which I wish 
to explain to you. ’ ’ 

He could not keep a new meaning out of 
the glance with which he enforced this 
assurance. They had strolled round to 
Ludgate Circus, and come to a halt on the 
corner, with their backs turned upon a 
window full of droll phrenological charts and 


412 


GLORIA MUNDI 


symbols. He consulted his watch once 
more. “I breakfasted so lightly, and so 
early,” he said — “it is not luncheon time 
quite, but that will give us a table to our- 
selves. You will come across with me, will 
you not? There are truly important things 
which have not been said — which I much 
wish to say.” 

After a moment’s reflection she nodded 
her assent. 




CHAPTER XX 


Christian and Frances ate their luncheon 
in an upper chamber, close to a kind of 
balcony window, which gave upon one of the 
city’s most crowded thoroughfares. An 
unceasing and uniform uproar — overridden 
from time to time by the superior tumult of 
a passing railway train on a bridge near by 
— rose from this indefatigable street. They 
had the room to themselves; the portentous 
din magnified the effect of the solitude in 
which they regarded each other, crumbling 
the bread on the table absent-mindedly, and 
waiting for the inspiration of speech. 

“When I get back,’’ the girl said at last 
with a smile, “the racket of my typewriters 
will seem like the murmur of a gentle breeze 
down a leafy country lane.” 

They laughed — but they had discovered 
it was not so hard to make oneself heard 
as they had supposed. Their voices in- 
tuitively found a level which served their 
personal needs, }^et did not incommode the 
waiters yawning at the head of the stairway 
outside. 


4i5 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Have you taken to the bicycle?” she was 
moved in sheer irrelevance to ask him. 
When he shook his head, she went on: “It 
is a wonderful thing for women. It has 
done more for them in three years, than all 
the progressive intellectual movements of 
civilization did in three hundred. We all 
use them, coming to and from the office. 
We have to store them down in the area, 
now — but I am going to find a better place. ” 
Christian rolled his bread crumbs into 
balls and stared at them in a brown study, 
from which this topic was powerless to arouse 
him. 

“I wish,” he said, finally — “I wish very 
much that I knew how to convince you. 
But I seem never to produce any impression 
upon you. You are unyielding to the touch. 
It is I who get molded and kneaded about 
whenever I come close to you. And I don’t 
say that it is not for the best. Only — only 
now, you will not accept my own ideas of 
what I should do, and you will not tell me 
what your ideas are. ’ ’ 

‘ * I am not sure that I have any ideas, ’ ’ she 
assured him. “It is merely that, on general 
principles, I don’t care for the people who 
settle difficulties by turning tail and running 
away from them.” 

“Very well,” he began, as if an impor- 
416 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tant premise had been accepted. “But as to 
my special case, I have stated what must be 
my position if I remain in England. To 
me it seems that it must be impossible — 
intolerable. But you have some different 
view, evidently. That is what I beg you to 
explain to me. If I am to remain in Eng- 
land, what is it your idea that I should do?” 

She knitted her brows a little, and took 
time to her reply. “You seem to think so 
entirely of yourself,” she said, slowly, “it is 
very hard to know what to say to you. I 
cannot put myself, you see, so completely in 
your place, as you are always able to do. ’ * 

He opened his eyes wide, and informed 
their gaze with a surprised reproach. 
“There you are surely unjust to me,” he 
urged, pleadingly. “I do not know anyone 
who thinks more about other people than I 
do. One hesitates to say these things about 
oneself — but truly you are mistaken in this 
matter. In fact, I wonder sometimes if it is 
not a fault, a weakness in my nature, that I 
am so readily moved by the sufferings and 
wrongs of unhappy people. Whenever I see 
injustice, I am beside myself with a passion 
to set it right. I grow almost sick with 
indignation, and pity, when these things 
come before me. Last night, for example, 
at the Empire ” 


417 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian stopped abruptly, with the 
sudden consciousness that the ground was 
not clear before him. He saw that he was 
entirely without a clue as to what his com- 
panion’s views on the subject might be. 
That was her peculiarity: he knew concern- 
ing her thoughts and inclinations only what 
she chose to reveal to him. It was beyond 
his power to predict what her attitude would 
be on any new topic. Looking at her 
thoughtful, serene-eyed face, it decidedly 
seemed to him that the Empire, as an ethical 
problem, might with advantage be passed 
by. He hesitated for a moment, in the 
friendly shelter of the street noise, and then 
gave another termination to his speech: “It 
puzzles me that you should have that view 
of my temperament. ’ ’ 

“Ah, that is just it — you have put the 
word into my mouth. It is ‘temperament’ 
that you are thinking of — and about that you 
are perfectly right. Y our temperament is as 
open to the impulses of the moment — kindly, 
generous, compassionate and all that — as a 
flower is to the bees. But character is 
another matter. What good do your fine 
momentary sentiments, these rapid noble 
emotions of yours, do you or anybody else? 
You experience them — and forget them. 
The only thing that abides permanently with 
41S 


GLORIA MUNDI 


you is consideration for your own personal 
affairs.” 

This is all very unjust, ’ ’ he said, disconso- 
lately. ‘ ‘ I come to you for solace and friend- 
ship, and you turn upon me with beak and 
claws.” He sighed, with the beginning of 
tears in his bright eyes, as he added : “There 
is more reason than ever, it seems to me, 
why I should go away from England! It is 
not kind to me!” 

His doleful tone and mien drove her to 
swift repentance. “Oh, I have only been 
saying the disagreeable things first, to get 
them out of the way, ’ ’ she sought to reassure 
him. “There isn’t another unpleasant word 
for you to hear, not one, I promise you. ’ ’ 

“It is my opinion that there have been 
enough,’’ he ventured to comment, with a 
rueful little smile. A measure of composure 
returned to him. “But if they must be said, 
I would rather they come from you than 
from any one else, for I think that you have 
also some pleasant thoughts about me.” 

She nodded her head several times in as- 
sent, regarding him with an amused twinkle 
in her eyes meanwhile. ‘ ‘ Y es — the right kind 
of editor could make very interesting 
stuff indeed out of you, ’ ’ she said, and smiled 
almost gaily at his visible failure to compre- 
hend her figure. “What I mean is — you are 
419 


GLORIA MUNDI 


too much sail, and too little boat. You drift 
before every new wind that blows. There 
is lacking that kind of balance — proportion 
— which gives stability. But, dear me, it is a 
thousand times better to be like that, than to 
have an excess of the othei thing. The man 
of the solid qualities, without the imagina- 
tion, simply sticks in the mud where he was 
born. But with you — if the right person 
chances to get hold of you, and brings the 
right influences steadily to bear upon you, 
then there is no telling what fine things you 
may not rise to. ” 

“You are that right person!” 

He lifted his voice to utter these words, 
with the air of feeling them to be momen- 
tous. His eyes glowed as they reaffirmed 
the declaration to her inquiring glance. But 
she seemed to miss the gravity of both words 
and look. 

“Oh, there you’re wrong,” she said, half 
jestingly. “I’m too bad tempered and 
quarrelsome to exert any proper influence 
over any one. Why, I should nag all the joy 
and high spirits out of you in no time at all. 
No — you need an equable and happy person, 
really very wise and strong and sensible, 
but above all with an easy, smooth disposi- 
tion — such a person, for example, as Eman- 
uel’s wife is described to be.” 


420 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“No — I need no one but you!” he repeated 
with accentuated deliberation. 

This time she appeared to feel something 
of his intention. She looked into the gaze 
he was bending upon her and then withdrew 
her eyes precipitately, and made a show of 
active interest in her food. 

“I am asking you to think of joining your 
life to mine, * ’ he went on, in low, yet very dis- 
tinct tones. “You cannot know a hundredth 
part as well as I do, how profoundly I need 
such help as you can give. You are the one 
woman in the world who means strength as 
well as happiness to me. If you could only 
dream with what yearning I long always to 
lean upon you — to be supported by your fine, 
calm, sweet wisdom ! To be upheld by you 
— to be nourished and guided by you — 
oh, that is the vision which I tremble with 
joy to think of ! I am my own master for the 
first time to-day — I have taken my life into 
my own hands — and I lay it at your feet — 
dear lady — at your feet. ’ ’ 

She rose abruptly while his last words 
were in the air, and turning, moved to the 
window. She had contrived by a gesture to 
bid him not to follow, and he could only gaze 
in mingled apprehension and hope at her 
back, the while she stood professing to scruti- 
nize the shifting throng below. 

421 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The waiter brought in another dish, 
methodically rearranged the plates and went 
away again. To Christian’s bitter disgust, 
two men entered and took seats at a table at 
the other end of the small room — and still 
she did not turn. He meditated calling her, 
or joining her on the pretense of announcing 
the cutlets — and only stared in nervous 
excitement instead. 

Then, as suddenly as she had left him she 
returned, and resumed her chair as if noth- 
ing unusual had happened. His strenuous 
gaze swept her face for tokens of her mood 
— of her inclination or decision — but beyond 
a spot of vivid red on each smooth cheek, 
there was no sign of any sort. Her frank, 
calm gray eyes met his with unruffled direct- 
ness; they had in them that suggestion of 
benignant tolerance which he had discerned 
there more than once before. 

“You do not answer me!” he pleaded, 
after a few mouthfuls. As his back shielded 
the action from the strangers, he put forth a 
cautious hand to touch the nearest of hers, 
but she drew it gently away beyond his 
reach. They automatically adjusted their 
voices to the conditions created by the new- 
comers. 

“There could be only one possible 
answer,” she told him, softly, almost 
422 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tenderly. “It is a very flattering dream — 
to me — but it is a mere empty dream, none 
the less. I hope you will not want to talk 
about' it any more. ’ ’ 

“But I swear that it is not empty at all!” 
he urged, in earnest tones. “Who has a 
right to say that it is a dream? I am my 
own master — so are you. We are of age — we 
are intelligent people. I deliberately come 
to you, and say to you that you are the one 
woman on earth whom I desire with all my 
heart for my wife. I open my mind to you. 
There is only the image of you inside it. 
You know my sincerity. You must feel 
how supreme is the place you have in my 
thoughts. It is the logical end toward which 
I have been walking ever since I first saw 
you! You are all that there is of true friend- 
ship, of true womanhood, for me ! I put out 
my hands to you, I pray to you ! And why 
will you not come to me, dear, dear Frank?” 

There was a touch of pathos in the smile 
she gave him. “It isn’t the least bit of 
good, I assure you,” she made answer, in 
the confidential murmur that was necessary. 
“One can’t talk here — but please let us speak 
of something else. Or can we not go now?” 

He went on as if she had not spoken, his 
big, dark eyes challenging hers to an 
encounter which she evaded. “Do not 


423 


GLORIA MUNDI 


think we need go away from England, if 
you want to stay ; there will always be money 
enough — with your wisdom in controlling it. 
Perhaps we may even be able to restore 
Caermere. But if we are not, still it can be 
one of the noblest and most beautiful resi- 
dences in England, when we learn together 
to understand its charm, and make it our 
home. Oh, when you see the magnificent 
hills and forests shutting it in on all sides — 
and the grim, fine old walls and towers of 
the castle itself ! But there we need live only 
when we choose to do so — and whenever the 
mood comes to us, off we can roam to the 
Alps or Algiers, or the wonderful India 
which one always dreams of. And we shall 
sail in our own yacht and you shall be the 
queen there, as everywhere else. And all 
our lives we will spend in doing good to 
others: do you not see what extraordinary 
opportunities for helping those who need help 
you will have? Where now you are of 
service to one person, then you can assist a 
hundred! An army of grateful people will 
give thanks because of you — and I will 
always be the chief of them — your foremost 
slave, your most reverent worshiper! And 
then — think of the joy of a life in which no one 
has a share who is not pleasant and welcome 
to us! We will have no one near us who is 


424 


GLORIA MUNDI 


not our friend. Oh, I have not told you: 
that is why, this very morning, I decided to 
leave it all, and to make a new life for my- 
self, and to spend it wholly with my real 
friends. It is loneliness, heart and soul lone- 
liness, that has driven me to revolt. And in 
my despair I come to you — and I say to you 
that it is friendship that I cannot live with- 
out, and you are my oldest friend, my 
dearest, truest, most precious friend, and I 
beg you to come with me and we will go 
through the world together, hand in 
hand ” 

She interrupted him by pushing back her 
chair and half rising. “If you will excuse 
me now, ’ ’ she said, nervously, ‘ ‘ I think I 
must go. You mustn’t trouble to come — I 
will say good-bye here. ’ ’ 

He had risen as well, and now in trembling 
earnestness protested against her proposal. 
At the risk of attracting the attention of the 
strangers, he displayed such resentful opposi- 
tion that she yielded. The waiter was sum- 
moned — and remained bowing in dazed 
meditation upon the magnitude of the 
change he had been bidden to keep for him- 
self, after they had passed out and down the 
staircase. 

She led the way at a hurried pace back 
across the Circus and to Blackfriars. At the 


425 


GLORIA MUNDI 


rounded beginning of the Embankment she 
paused, and for the first time spoke. ‘ ‘ Really 
I would rather go back by myself,” she told 
him. “It is only unhappiness to both of us 
— what you insist on talking about. ’ ’ 

“But I do not think it is to be treated in 
this way,” he declared with dignity. “If 
we speak of nothing else it is the highest 
and most solemn honor that a man can pay 
to any woman, that I have paid to you. I 
have the feeling that it should be more 
courteously dealt with.” 

“Yes, I know,” she admitted, nodding her 
ready compunction. She tightened her lips 
and looked away from him toward the 
bridge, her brows drawn together in troubled i 
lines. “I don’t say the right thing to you — 

I know that better even than you do. You 
must not think I fail to appreciate it all — 
the honor, and the immense confidence, and ; 
all the rest of it. But when I have said that 
much — then I don’t know in the least how 
to say the rest. Why can’t we leave it unsaid ; 
altogether? I assure you, in all seriousness, 
that it can’t be — and mayn’t we leave it like 
that? Please!” 

He regarded her with a patient yet proud 
sadness, waiting to speak till she had turned, 
and his glance caught hers. “I do not wish 
to become a nuisance to you, ’ ’ he said, his 
426 


GLORIA MUNDI 


voice choking a little, “but I think it would 
be better if you said everything to me. 
Then I shall not put my mind on the rack, to 
try and imagine your reasons.” He let his 
lip curl with a lingering ironical perception 
of the fantastic with which his tragedy was 
veined. “It is very sweet,” he went on — 
“your consideration for my feelings. But 
I have heard so many plain truths to-day, I 
think my sensibilities are in good training 
now — they will not suffer for a few more.” 
Suddenly, as if the sound of his voice had 
unnerved him, he seized her arm, and con- 
fronted her surprised gaze with a reddened 
and scowling face. “What are you afraid 
of?” he demanded hoarsely. “Why not say 
it? I heard it only last night! It is forty 
years old, it is true, but they have wonderful 
memories in England. You are the one 
whom I have held to be my dearest friend 
— but go on ! Say it to me ! A little thing 
like friendship does not prevent you from 
thinking it! Why, then, you should have 
the courage to speak it out!” 

Dimly, while she stared in his distracted 
countenance, the meaning of the wild talk 
dawned upon her. With a startled excla- 
mation, she dragged her arm from his clutch, 
and drew back a step. Trembling in her 
agitation, her gray eyes distended them- 
427 


GLORIA MUNDI 


selves out of all likeness to their tranquil 
habit. 

“Oh-h-h!” she murmured in dismay at 
him, and wrung her hands. “Oh-h! Stop! 
Stop ! That is too horrible for you to think ! ’ ’ 

Gaining coherence of thought and purpose, 
she moved impulsively to him, and in turn 
clasped her hand upon his arm. ‘ ‘ Put that out 
of your mind!” she adjured him. “I could 
not look anybody in the face if you thought 
that of me. Oh, it is too terrible of you! 
How could you suppose that I could harbor 
such a thought? To blame you for some- 
thing years before yon were born ! — to throw 
it into your face. And me of all people! 
Why, I have cried to myself at remembering 
what you said about your father when we 
first met — how your little-boy memory clung 
affectionately to the soldier-figure of him in 
the door-way! Look at me — I cry now to 
think of it ! Why, it is the one thing about 
you that is sacred to me! — the one thing that 
you are perfect in — and then you imagine 
that I am capable of insulting you about it ! 
Oh, heavens, why wouldn’t you leave me 
when I told you to?” 

She threw his arm from her in a gust of 
physical impatience, but the glance with 
which, on the instant, she corrected this 
demonstration, was full of honest compas- 

42S 


GLORIA MUNDI 


sion. He groveled before this benign gaze, 
with bowed head and outstretched, plead- 
ing hands. 

“Forgive me! Forgive me!” he groaned, 
brokenly. “I could not — at all — know what 
it was I said. I am too unhappy!” 

“Well,” she began, with a vehement effort 
at calmness, “let us say good-bye here. 
There are some Germans watching us from 
the hotel windows. Or it is better perhaps 
— will you walk on past the school?’ ’ As they 
moved forward, she recovered more of her 
self-possession. “I hope you will be able to 
remember something pleasant out of our 
morning, ’ ’ she said, and with a joyless laugh 
added, “but for the life of me, I don’t know 
what it can be. Or yes, you can remember 
when you woke up, and I stood and scolded 
you, from above the flowers. I pretended 
to bully you, but really all the while I was 
thinking how sweet of you the entire thing 
was. And later, too — oh, there were several 
intervals in which I behaved civilly to you 
for whole minutes at a time. ” 

He looked wistfully at her. Beneath the 
forced playfulness of her tone it seemed to 
him that something hopeful sounded. “Ah, 
dear friend,” he murmured, drawing close 
to her — “think! — think tenderly in my 
behalf ! Ask yourself — your kindest self — if 
429 


GLORIA MUNDI 


I must be really driven away. Why is it 
that I may not stay? I plead with you as if 
it were for my life — and is it not indeed for 
my life? — my very life?” 

“No — Christian,” she said, gravely, “it is 
not your life, nor anything like your life. 
You give big labels to your emotions, but 
in good time you will see that the things 
themselves are not so big, or so vital. And 
you mustn’t yield so readily to all these 
impulses to mope and despair and to think 
yourself ill used. You must try to make for 
yourself a thicker skin — and to view things 
more calmly. And I don’t want you to go 
away thinking hard things of me. Is it true 
that I always nag you — there is something 
in you which calls out all the bully in me — but 
I wish you would think of me as your friend. 
It gives me great pleasure when you speak 
of me as your oldest friend in England — for 
I have always liked you, and I am interested 
in you, and — ” 

“And why will you not marry me?” He 
interposed the question bluntly, and with a 
directness which gave it the effect of an 
obstacle in her path, isolated but impassable. 

She halted, and studied the pavement in 
consideration of her reply. When she looked 
up, it was with the veiled elation of a dis- 
putant who has his counter-stroke well in 


430 


GLORIA MUNDI 


hand. “You said to-day that you had 
become your own master, and that you were 
a free man, with your life in your own hands. 
Very well. I also am my own master, and 
I am a free woman. My life is exclusively 
my own personal property, to live as I choose 
to live it. I value my liberty quite as highly 
as if I were a man. It does not suit me to 
merge any part of it in something else. 
There could be many other reasons given, 
no doubt, but they would be merely indi- 
vidual variations of this one chief reason — 
that I am a free woman, and intend to 
remain a free woman. I know what I want 
to do in the world, and I am going to try to 
do it, always my own way, always my own 
master.” 

He regarded her thoughtfully, bowing his 
head in token of comprehension. “But if 
— , ” he began, and then checked himSelf, 
with a gesture of pained submission. 

“There are no ‘ifs,’ ” she said, with reso- 
lute calmness, and held out her hand to him. 
Her control of the situation was undisputed. 
“We say good-bye, now — and we are friends 
— good friends. I — I thank you — for every- 
thing!” 

He stood looking at her as she walked 
away — a sedately graceful figure, erect and 
light of step, receding from him under the 
431 


GLORIA MUNDI 


pallid green shelter of the young trees. 
Musingly, he held up the hand which still 
preserved the sense of that farewell contact 
with hers — and upon a sudden impulse put 
it to his lips and kissed it. Something in the 
action wrought an instantaneous change in 
his thoughts. All at once it was apparent 
to him that many things which should have 
been said to her he had left unsaid. In 
truth, it seemed upon reflection that he had 
said and done everything wrong. The 
notion of running after her flamed up in 
him for a moment. She was still in sight — 
he could distinguish her in the distance, 
stopping to buy a paper from a boy near 
the Temple station. But then the memory 
of her unanswerable, irrevocable “No” 
swept back upon him — and with a long sigh 
he turned and strode in the other direction. 

Frances, hastening mechanically toward 
her office, found relief from the oppressive 
confusion of her thoughts in the fortuitous 
spectacle of two small newsboys fighting in 
the gutter just at the end of the Temple 
Gardens. For the first time in her life, the 
sight aroused nothing within her save a 
pleased if unscientific interest. She paused, 
and almost smilingly observed the contest. 
She found something amusingly grotesque in 
432 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tne pseudo-Titanic rage on these baby faces. 
The dramatic fury of the embattled infants 
was in such ridiculous disproportion to the 
feather-weight blows they exchanged ! She 
found herself chuckling aloud at some 
incongruous comparison which rose in her 
mind. 

Then, as the combatants parted, ap- 
parently for no better reason than the 
general volatility of youth, she remembered 
that she had it in mind to look at the 
“Star.” One of her friends, Mary Leach, 
had sent to that paper some days before an 
article on “Shopgirls’ Dormitories,” and she 
was interested in watching for its appear- 
ance. It happened that one of the boys had 
a ‘ ‘ Star. ’ 9 Acting upon some obscure whim, 
she gave them each a penny, quite in the 
manner of a distributor of prizes for con- 
spicuous merit — and grinned to herself at the 
thought when she had turned her back on 
them and moved on. 

There was no sign of what she sought on 
the front page. Opening the sheet, her eye 
fell, as it were, upon a news paragraph in a 
middle column : 

“Death of the Oldest Duke. — The Shrews- 
bury correspondent of the ‘Exchange Tele- 
graph’ announces the death at Caermere 
433 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Castle, at an early hour this morning, of the 
Duke of Glastonbury. His Grace, who was 
in his ninetieth year, had until last summer 
enjoyed the most vigorous health, and only 
now succumbs to the prostration then 
occasioned by the group of domestic bereave- 
ments which at the time created such a 
sensation. The deceased nobleman, who for 
the great part of his prolonged life, was one 
of the best known sportsmen in Shropshire, 
succeeded his father as eighth duke in his 
minority, and had been in possession of 
the title for no less than seventeen years 
when Her Majesty ascended the throne, thus 
constituting a record which is believed to be 
without parallel in the annals of the peer- 
age. His successor is stated by Whitaker’s 
Almanac to be his grandson, Mr. Christian 
Tower, but the current editions of Burke, 
Debrett and others do not mention this gentle- 
man, whose claims, it would appear, have 
but recently been admitted by the family.” 

Frances read it all, as she stood at the 
corner, with a curious sense of mental slug- 
gishness. Her attention failing to follow 
one of the sentences, she went back, and 
laboriously traced its entire tortuous course, 
only to find that it meant no more than it 
had at first. 


434 


GLORIA MUNDI 


It seemed a long time before she connected 
the intelligence on the printed page with the 
realities of actual life. Then she turned 
swiftly, and strained her eyes in the wild 
hope of discovering Christian still on the 
Embankment. She even took a few hurried 
steps, as if to follow and overtake him — but 
stopped short, confronted by the utter 
futility of such an enterprise. 

Then, walking slowly, her mind a maze of 
wondering thoughts, she went her way. 


435 






















* 











































































CHAPTER XXI 


Christian strolled aimlessly about for a 
long time in the closely packed congeries of 
streets, little and big, behind St. Paul’s. It 
happened to be all new ground to him, and 
something novel was welcome to his troubled 
and restless mind. He loitered from one 
window to another, examining their con- 
tents gravely ; at the old book stalls he took 
down numbers of volumes and looked labo- 
riously through them, as if conducting an 
urgent search for something. 

His jumbled thoughts were a burden to 
him. He could get nothing coherent from 
them 0 It was not even clear to his percep- 
tion whether he was really as dejected and 
disconsolate as he ought to be. 

He had only recently been plunged into 
despairing depths of sadness, and it was 
fitting that he should still be racked with 
anguish. Yet there was no actual pain — 
there was not even a dogged insensibility to 
the frivolous distractions of the moment. 
He became exceedingly interested in an old 
copy of Boutell, for example, and hunted 
437 


GLORIA MUNDI 


eagerly through the multitude of heraldic 
cuts to see if the white bull on a green 
ground of the Torrs was among them. His 
disappointment at not finding it was so keen 
that for the instant it superseded his abiding 
grief. His discovery of this fact entertained 
him ; he was almost capable of laughing in 
amusement at it. Then, in self-condem- 
nation, he sought to call up before his mental 
vision the picture of Frances, as she had 
looked when they had said good-bye. The 
image would not come distinctly. Her face 
eluded him ; he could only see her walking 
away, instead, under the feeble green of the 
young trees. None the less, he said delib- 
erately to himself that he was unhappy 
beyond the doom of most men, and that the 
hope had gone out of his life. 

The day had turned out unexpectedly 
warm. In the middle of his shapeless 
musings, the ornate sign of a Munich 
brewery on a cool, shaded doorway suddenly 
attracted him. The dusky, restful empti- 
ness of the place inside seemed ideally to fit 
his mood. He went in, and seated himself 
with a long sigh of satisfaction at one of the 
tables. Here, in this mellow quiet, over 
the refreshing contents of the big, covered 
stone mug, he could think peacefully and to 
advantage. He lit a cigar, and leaning back 
438 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in comfort, gave the signal to his thoughts 
to arrange and concentrate themselves. 

What should he do next? Yes — that was 
far more to the point than mooning over the 
irrevocable past. He had left Duke Street 
with hardly any plan beyond not return- 
ing thither. Luggage of some sort he would 
have to have — changes of linen and the 
like, and the necessary articles of the toilet. 
It was his intention to buy these as the need 
of them arose — and the character of his 
purchases would also depend a good deal, of 
course, upon the decision he should come to 
concerning his movements. He had said 
that he would leave England — and now he 
asked himself whether there was anything to 
prevent his departure that very evening. One 
of the deepest charms of travel must be to 
start off on the instant, upon the bidding of 
the immediate whim, and descend upon 
your destination before there has been time 
to cheapen it by thinking about it. Why 
should he not eat the morrow’s breakfast in 
the Hague — and dine at Amsterdam? 
Similarly, he could within twenty-four hours 
be watching the marriage of Mosel and 
Rhine at Coblenz — or gazing upon the wide, 
wet, white sands of the Norman shore from 
the towering battlements of St. Michel. A 
hundred storied towns, vaguely pictured in 


439 


GLORIA MUNDI 


his imagination, beckoned to him from 
across the Channel. Upon reflection, it 
seemed to him that Holland offered the most 
wooing invitation. He asked the waiter 
for Bradshaw, and noted the salient points 
of the itinerary from Queenborough. 

It was now three o’clock. There was 
plenty of time for all purchases, and a 
leisurely dinner before going to Victoria. It 
occurred to him that the dinner must be 
very good — a luxurious kind of farewell 
repast. 

He would make a memorandum now of 
the things he ought to buy here in London. 
Holland was by all accounts a dear place — 
and moreover he had heard that the Dutch 
customs examination was by no means 
troublesome. It would be more intelligent 
to complete practically his outfit here. He 
took out a pencil, and began feeling in his 
coat-pocket for a bit of paper. The hand 
brought out, beside Lady Milly’s note about 
the Private View, three or four unopened 
letters. He had entirely forgotten their 
existence — and stared at them now in puz- 
zled indecision. It was not a sensible thing, 
or a fair thing either, to tear up and destroy 
unread the message which some one else had 
been at pains to transcribe for you. But on 
the other hand, these missives belonged to 
440 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the stupid and intolerable life in Duke 
Street, with which he had definitely parted 
company. It might even be said, in one 
sense, that he was not the person to whom 
they were addressed. 

By some whimsical freak of the brain, he 
suddenly asked himself whether he should 
not go to Greece instead of Holland, and 
enlist as a volunteer in the war against the 
Turks. He became on the instant immersed 
in adventurous military speculations. He 
had not fallen into the English habit of 
following the daily papers with regularity, 
and he was conscious of no responsibility 
whatever toward the events of the world at 
large, as Reuter and the correspondents 
chronicled them. Something of this new 
war in Thessaly, however, he had perforce 
read and heard. Of the circumstances and 
politics surrounding this latest eruption of 
the Eastern Question he knew little more 
than would any of the young Frenchmen of 
education among whom he had spent his 
youth. But in an obscure way, he compre- 
hended that good people in Western Europe 
always sympathized with the Christian as 
against the Moslem. It seemed that some 
generous-minded young Englishmen were 
already translating this sympathy into 
action ; somewhere he had seen an account 


441 


GLORIA MUNDI 


of a party of volunteers leaving London for 
Athens, and being cheered by their friends 
at the station. Now that he thought of 
it, the paper in which he had read the 
report had ridiculed the affair as an un- 
desirable kind of a joke — but the impulse of 
the volunteers seemed fine to him, none the 
less. 

There ought to be some martial blood in 
his veins ; the soldier-figure of his father rose 
before him in affirmation of the idea. 

But no — what nonsense it was! If ever 
there had been a youth bred and narrowed 
to the walks of peace, he was that young 
person. He who had never struck another 
human being in his life, that he could 
remember — what would such a tame sheep 
be doing in the open field, against the 
unknown, ferocious Osmanli Turk? The 
gross absurdity of the picture flared upon 
him, momentarily — and then the whole 
notion of armed adventure had vanished 
from his mind. 

His attention reverted to the letters — and 
now it seemed quite a matter of course that 
he should open them. The first three were 
of no importance. The fourth he regarded 
with wide-open eyes, after he had grasped 
the identity of the writer. He read it over 
slowly, more than once : 


442 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“27 A Ashley Gardens, S. W., Monday. 

“My Dear Mr. Christian Tower: I have 
taken this little place in town for the time 
being, and I shall be glad to see you when 
you are this way. To-morrow, Tuesday, is 
a day when I shall not be at home to other 
people — if you have nothing better to do. 

“Yours very sincerely, 

“Edith Cressage. ” 

Nothing better to do? Christian’s thoughts 
lingered rather blankly upon the phrase — 
until all at once he perceived that there could 
not possibly be anything better to do. He 
rose with decision, hurriedly gulped what re- 
mained of his second pot of beer, paid his 
bill and marched out with the air of a man 
with a mission. 

In the hansom, he read the letter still 
again, and leaned backward to see as much 
as possible of himself in the little mirror at 
the side. His chin could not be described as 
closely shaven, and his garments were 
certainly not those of the afternoon caller. 
The resource of stopping at Duke Street 
occurred to him — but no ! that would be too 
foolish. The whole significance of the day 
would be abolished, wiped out, by such a 
fatuous step. And he repeated to himself 
that it was a day of supreme significance. 
By comparison with the proceedings and 
experiences of this long and crowded day, 


443 


GLORIA MU'N DI 


the rest of his life seemed colorless indeed. 
And what was of most importance in it, he 
declared to himself, was not its external 
happenings, but the fine and novel posture 
of his liberated mind toward them. He was 
for the first time actually a free man. His 
enfranchisement had not been thrown at 
him by outsiders ; it proceeded from within 
him — the product of his own individuality. 

That was what people would discern in 
him hereafter — a complete and self-sufficient 
personality. He would no longer be pointed 
out and classified as somebody’s grandson — 
somebody's cousin or grand-nephew. The 
world would recognize him as being him- 
self. He felt assured, for example, upon 
reflection that Lady Cressage would not 
dream of questioning the fashion of the 
clothes in which he came to see her. She 
would perceive at once that he had developed 
beyond the silly pupilary stage of subordina- 
tion to his coat and hat. She was so clever 
and sympathetic a woman, he felt intuitively, 
that these symbols of his emancipated con- 
dition would delight her. It was true, he 
saw again from the mirror that his collar 
might be a little whiter; his cuffs, too, had 
lost their earlier glow of starched freshness. 
But these were trifles to serious minds. 
And besides, was it not all in the family? 

444 


GLORIA MUNDI 


There was a momentary block at the 
corner of Parliament Street, and here a 
newsboy thrust a fourth edition upon Chris- 
tian with such an effect of authority that he 
found a penny and took the paper. It was 
the “Westminster Gazette,” and when he 
had looked upon the second page for a pos- 
sible drawing by Gould, and had skimmed 
the column of desultory gossip on the last 
page, which always seemed to his alien con- 
ceptions of journalism to be the kind of 
matter he liked in a newspaper, he laid the 
sheet on his knee, and resumed his idle 
reverie. To his great surprise the cabman’s 
shouts through the roof were necessary to 
awaken him at Ashley Gardens. He shook 
himself, laughingly explained that he had 
been up all night as he paid his fare, and 
ascended the steps of 2 7 A, paper in hand. 

The servant seemed prepared for his com- 
ing, for upon giving his name in response to 
her somewhat meaning inquiry, she led him 
in at once. He sat waiting for a few 
moments in a small and conveniently ap- 
pointed drawing-room, and then stood up, at 
the rustle of rapid skirts which announced 
Lady Cressage in the half-open doorway. 

She entered with outstretched hand, and 
a radiant welcome upon her face. 

Christian noted that beyond the hand then? 


445 


GLORIA MUND1 


was a forearm, shapely and cream-hued, dis« 
closed by the lace of her flowing sleeve. 
There were billows of this lace, and of some 
fragile, light fabric which seemed sister to it, 
enveloping the lady, yet her tall, graceful 
figure was in some indefinable way molded 
to the eye beneath them all. The pale hair 
was as he had first seen it, loosely drawn 
across her temples; there were warm 
shadows in it which he had not thought to 
see. The face, too, had some unexpected 
phase, here in the subdued light of the 
curtained room. There was a sense of rosi- 
ness in the rounded flesh, a certain reposeful 
elation in the regard of the blue eyes, which 
put quite at fault the image of harrowed 
restlessness and nerves he had retained from 
Caermere. It was in an illuminating second 
that he saw all this, and perceived that she 
was very beautiful, and flushed with the deep 
consciousness that she read his thoughts like 
big print. 

“It was the greatest cheek in the world — 
my summoning you like this,” she said, as 
they shook hands. “Yes — sit here. Put your 
hat and paper on the sofa. This is my only 
reception room — but we might have a little 
more light.” 

She moved to the window, to pull back 
the curtains, and then about the room, 
446 


GLORIA MUNDI 


lightly rearranging some of the chairs and 
trinkets — all with a buoyant daintiness of 
motion which inexpressibly charmed him. 
“These are not my things, you know,” she 
explained over her shoulder. “I am not try- 
ing in the least to live up to them, either. I 
take the place, furnished, for three months, 
from the widow of an Indian officer. You 
would think she would have some Indian - 
things — but it might have all come direct 
from Tottenham Court Road. It’s impos- 
sible to get the slightest sensation of being 
at home, here. One could really extract 
more domesticity out of four bare cottage 
walls. Or no, what am I saying?” — she had 
returned, and sinking into the low chair 
opposite him, pointed her words with a 
frank smile into his face — “it is a bit like 
home — to see you here!” 

“I am very glad to be here,” he assured 
her, nodding his unfeigned pleasure. “But 
it seemed as if you would never tell me I 
might come.” 

“Oh, I was worried to death. There were 
all sorts of things to see about when I first 
came up,” she explained with animation. 
“And I had the feeling that I didn’t want you 
to come till I had smoothed some of my 
wrinkles out, and had achieved a certain con- 
trol over my nerves. It was not fair to 
447 


GLORIA MUNDI 


myself — the view you had of me at Caer- 
mere.” 

The view of her that was afforded him 
here brought a glow of admiration to his eyes. 

4 ‘To think of your being my cousin!” he 
said, with some remote echo in his own 
voice of the surprise which he recalled in 
Dicky Westland’s tone. It seemed wonder- 
ful indeed as he looked at her, and smiled. 
He shook his head presently, in response 
to her question whether he had any recent 
news from Caermere, and continued to ob- 
serve her with a rapt sense of the miraculous 
being embodied before his eyes. 

“But the duke is very low indeed,” she 
told him in a hushed voice. “I had it yester- 
day from — from one of the household.” 

The tidings barely affected him. That 
side of his mind was still fast in the rut of 
last night’s mutiny. 

“I have quite decided to go away,” he 
announced, calmly. “I get no good out of 
the life here. It does not suit me. What- 
ever comes to me, why, that I shall accept, 
but to use it in my own way, living my own 
life. Now that I am a free man, it aston- 
ishes me that I did not rebel long ago.” 

“Rebel — against what?” she asked him, 
with a kind of confidential candor which put 
him even more at his ease. 

448 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Oh, against everything,” he smiled back 
at her. “This existence that they ar- 
ranged for me — it is like being embalmed 
and wrapped in mummy-cloths. Personally 
I do not survive a thousand years — but I am 
but one link in a long chain of respectable 
people who have lived like that, without 
living at all, for many thousands. It is 
being buried alive. Why, you will see what 
I mean — a man is a creature different from 
other human creatures. He has an indi- 
vidual nature of his own. His tastes, his 
inclinations, his impulses and ideas, are not 
quite like those of the people about him. He 
would be happy to follow these according to 
his own wishes. But then everybody seizes 
upon him and says: ‘No, you must be and 
do just like the rest. You will be noticed 
and disliked if you indulge in even the 
slightest variation. These are the coats you 
are to wear, and the hats and caps and neck- 
ties. This is Duke Street, which you must 
live in. This is the hour to get up, this is 
the hour to make calls, this is the corner of 
your card to turn down, this is the list of 
people at whose houses you must dine, these 
are your friends ready-made for you out of 
a book.’ And truly what is it all? — utter, 
utter emptiness. You are really not alive 
at all ! You have no more personal sensation 


449 


GLORIA MUNDI 


of your own existence than an insect. It is 
all this that I rebel against.” 

She reclined a little in her chair, and 
covered him with a meditative gaze. “I 
know the feeling, ”she commented thought- 
fully. ‘‘I used to have sharp spasms of it — 
oh, ages ago — whenever a shopwoman 
showed me something, and said, ‘This is very 
much worn just now,’ or, ‘We are selling a 
great deal of this. ’ Then I would not have 
that particular thing if I died for it. But 
do you really feel so earnestly about it?” 
She put the question in deference to a 
gesture by which he had signified the inade- 
quacy of her comparison. ‘‘Ah, the real life, 
as you call it, is a more complicated thing 
than one fancies.” 

‘‘But that is precisely the point,” with 
vivacity. ‘‘I have thought much about that. 
Is it not the artificial life which is complicated 
instead? Do we not confound the two? If 
you consider it, what can be more simple 
that the natural life of a man? If an astrono- 
mer, for example, has a difficult problem to 
work out, he first busies himself in discover- 
ing and putting aside all the things which 
seem to be factors in it but really are not. 
One by one he gets rid of them, until at last 
he has the naked equation before him — and 
then a result is possible. But with us, it 


450 


GLORIA MUNDI 


seems that we go quite the other way about it. 
We take the problem of life — which is extra- 
ordinarily simple to begin with — and we pile 
upon it and around it thousands of outside 
rules and conventions and traditions, and we 
confuse it with other thousands of prejudices, 
and insincerities, and old mistakes that no 
one has had the industry to examine — and 
then we look with embarrassment at what 
we have done, and shake our heads, and say 
that the problem is too hard, that it passes 
the wisdom of man to solve it. * ’ 

“I wish you joy of solving it,” she 
remarked, after another reflective survey of 
his face. “I am sure I wish some one would 
do it. But you spoke of going away. How 
would that help matters?” 

The recurrence of the question startled 
him. He looked at her with lifted head, re- 
calling swiftly meanwhile the tone in which 
Frances had uttered those same words. 
A blurred, imperfect retrospect of the morn- 
ing’s events and talks passed fleetingly across 
his mind — and its progress disquieted him. 
Some tokens of perturbation on his face 
seemed to warn her, for she went on without 
waiting for an answer. 

“I am not surprised to find you feeling 
like this,” she said. “It is quite the effect 
that I imagined London would produce upon 
45i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


you. I have no right to say so, perhaps, 
but it seemed to me from the start that it 
was being badly managed — I mean the way 
you were sent here by yourself, and given 
nothing to do except follow about where 
Lord Lingfield led. It is not what I should 
have done — but the truth is that Emanuel 
knows nothing at all about the characters 
and temperaments of human beings. If 
men agree with him, he thinks they are good 
men, and if they disagree with him, they 
are bad men — or at least not worth thinking 
about at all. ’ ’ 

“I had quite resolved not to commit myself 
to his System,” Christian informed her, 
“even before I made up my mind to — to 
take other steps.” 

His closing euphemism seemed to attract 
her attention. ‘ ‘ What is it you intend to do ? ” 
she asked of him, softly. She sat upright 
again, with an air of friendly curiosity. 

In the face of this query, he discovered 
that his intentions were by no means so clear 
to himself as they had been. “It is still 
rather in the air,” he said vaguely. “But 
we talk always of myself ! Tell me, instead, 
about yourself! It is an infinitely more 
pleasing subject. You are here in London 
for only three months? And you are alone 
here?” 


452 


GLORIA MUNDI 


She smiled in an indefinite fashion, and 
leaned back in her chair. “Ought I to have 
a chaperon? I dare say. But there is no 
room for her here. The flat accommodates 
just one solitary elderly lady and here you 
behold her. Oh, I am a hundred years old, 
I assure you ! ’ ’ 

He could only wave his hand at her in 
genial deprecation. “Oh, who is younger 
than you?” he murmured. 

She sighed. “By the almanac I am four- 
and-twenty,” she went on, with a new note 
of gentle melancholy. “But by my own 
feelings, I seem to have been left over from 
the reign of William the Fourth. And 
really, it is not my own feelings alone — 
when I go out, I observe that very old men 
take me down to dinner, and talk to me 
precisely as if I were a contemporary of 
theirs.” 

“When we were together at Caermere,” 
interposed Christian, “you confessed to me 
that you were not happy — and it was my 
great delight to pledge myself that if ever 
there was anything I could do — ” 

“Oh, there is nothing at all,” she inter- 
rupted him to declare. “My case will not 
come up. It has all been settled. The 
accounts, or settlements — or whatever you 
call them — have been made up, and my share 


453 


GLORIA MUNDI 


of my husband’s share of his father’s interest 
in his father’s estate has been ascertained. 
I have six hundred a year for life. It is a 
mild and decorous competence. I do not 
complain. It will keep a genteel roof over 
my head here in London, or a small hoube 
and a pony-trap in the country. It will run 
to a month at a pension in the cheaper parts 
of Switzerland, or perhaps even to a lodging 
and a bath-chair at Brighton, when it is not 
quite the season. Oh, I shall get on very 
well indeed — at all events, ’ ’ she added with 
a touch of bitterness, “much better than I 
deserve to do.’’ 

Christian lifted his brows in protesting 
inquiry. “You always speak in that tone of 
yourself! It pains me to hear you. I can- 
not think of any one who deserves the kind- 
ness and friendly good offices of fortune 
more than you.’’ 

Lady Cressage gave an uncertain little 
laugh. “You are too generous-minded — 
too innocent. You do not know. Me? My 
dear friend — I have committed the unpardon- 
able sin ! I humiliated and degraded myself 
to win a great prize in the world’s lottery — 
and I did not bring it off. That is my 
offense. If I had won the trick — why, they 
would be burning incense before me ! But 
I lost instead — and they leave me quite by 
454 


GLORIA MUNDI 


myself to digest my own disgust. I don’t 
talk about it — I have never said as much to 
any living soul as I am saying to you — I 
don’t know why I am telling you — ” 

“Is there any one else who would listen 
with such sympathy?’ ’ Christian heard him- 
self interjecting. 

“But it is too cruel,” continued Lady 
Cressage, “too shameful a story! I was not 
happy at home. It was nobody’s fault in 
particular; I don’t know that we were more 
evil-tempered and selfish among ourselves 
than most other middle-class households 
with four hundred a year, and three 
daughters to marry off. I was the youngest, 
and I had the sort of good looks which were 
in fashion at the moment, and mamma 
worked very hard for me — pretending to 
idolize me before people though we yapped 
at each other like fox-terriers in private — 
and I was lucky in making friends — and so 
I went swimming out on the top of the wave 
that season, the most envied poor fool of a 
girl in London. And when Cressage wanted 
to marry me — I was dizzy with the immen- 
sity of what seemed to be offered me. My 
parents were mad with pride and ecstasy. 
Everybody around me pretended a kind of 
holy joy at my triumph. I give you my 
word ! — never so much as a whisper came to 


455 


GLORIA MUNDI 


my ears of any shadow of a reason why I 
should hesitate — why I should think a second 
time! Do you see? There was not an 
honest person — a single woman or a man 
with decency enough to warn an ignorant 
girl of her danger — within reach of me any- 
where. They all kept as silent as the grave 
— with that lying grin of congratulation on 
their mean faces — and they led me to be 
married to the beast!” 

She had sat erect in her chair as she spoke, 
and now she rose to her feet, motioning him 
not to get up as she did so. She took a rest- 
less step or two, her shoulders trembling 
with excitement, and her hands clenched. 
“Ah-h! I will never forgive them the 
longest day of my life ! ’ * she called out. 

Then, with a determined shake of her head, 
she seemed to master herself. Standing 
before a small mirror in the panel of a 
cabinet against the wall, she busied her 
beautiful hands in correcting the slight dis- 
order of her hair. When she turned to him, 
it was with a faint, tremulous smile sur- 
mounting the signs of stress and agitation 
upon her face. She sank into the chair 
again, with a long-drawn breath of resigna- 
tion. 

“But it isn’t nice to abuse the dead,” she 
remarked, striving after an effect of judicial 

456 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fairness in her voice. “I didn’t mean to 
speak like that. And for that matter, why 
should I speak at all of him? One doesn’t 
blame a wolf for man-eating. You execrate 
instead the people who deliberately throw 
a helpless human being to the wolf. I even 
say to myself that I have no quarrel with 
Cressage. He was as God made him — if the 
thought isn’t blasphemous. He was a great, 
overgrown, bullying, blubbering, ignorant 
boy, who never got beyond the morals of 
the stables and kennels, and the standards of 
taste of the servants’ hall. One could hardly 
call him vicious ; that is to say, he did not 
deliberately set out to cause suffering. He 
did not do anything on deliberation. He 
acted just as his rudimentary set of bar- 
baric impulses prompted him to act. Some 
of these impulses would have been regarded 
as virtues in a more intelligent man. For 
example, he was wildly, insanely jealous of 
me. It took the most impossible and vulgar 

forms, it is true, but still ’ ’ 

“Oh, need we talk of him?’’ It was with 
almost a groan of supplication that Christian 
stopped her. “He is too unpleasant to 
think about. Nothing that I had heard of 
him before made me sorry that he was dead 
— but this — it is too painful. But now you 
are a free woman — you see your path well 
457 


GLORIA MUNDI 


before you, to travel as you choose. And 
what will you do?” 

She sighed and threw up her hands with a [ 
gesture of contemptuous indifference. 1 
“What does any English lady with six hun- ■ 
dred a year do? Devote her energies to j 
seeing that she gets — let me see, what is the 
sum? — to seeing that she gets twelve thou- 
sand shillings’ worth of respectable discom- 
fort, and secures reasonable opportunities for 
making those about her uncomfortable also. 
Oh, I don’t in the least know what I shall do. 
The truth is,” she added, with a sad smile, “I 
have lived alone with my dislikes so long, 
and I have nourished and watered them so 
carefully, that now they fill my whole gar- 
den. They have quite choked out the flow- 
ers of existence — these thick, rank, powerful 
weeds. And I haven’t the energy — perhaps ! 
I haven’t even the desire — to pull them up. • 
They seem appropriate, somehow — they ! 
belong to the desolation that has been made j 
of my life.” 

Christian bent forward, and made a move- j 
ment as if to take one of the hands which lay 
dejectedly in her lap. He did not do this, j 
but touched a projecting bit of lace upon one 
of the flounces of her gown, and twisted it 
absent-mindedly in his fingers instead. 

“You are still unhappy ! ” he said reproach- 
458 


GLORIA MUNDI 


fully, his eyes glowing with the intensity of 
his tender compassion. “I do not forgive 
myself for my inability to be of help to you. 
It is incredible that there is not something I 
can do.” 

“But you are going away,” she reminded 
him, in a soft monotone. “You have your own 
unpleasantnesses to think of — and you are 
occupied with plans for rearranging your life 
on new lines. I only hope that you will find 
the happiness you are setting out in search 
of. But then men can always get what they 
want, if they are only sufficiently in earnest 
about it.” 

“It is not entirely settled that I shall go 
away,” said Christian. He twisted the lace 
in the reverse direction, and hesitated over 
his further words. “That was only one of 
several alternatives. I am clear only about 
my resolve to make a stand — to break away. 
But if I remained here in England — in Lon- 
don?” — He looked with mingled trepidation 
and inquiry into her face. “If I did not go 
abroad — is there anything I could do?” 

She regarded with attentiveness the hand 
which was playing havoc with her flounce — 
and it straightway desisted. She continued 
to study the little screwed-up cone of lace, 
in meditative silence. At last she shook her 
head. “You must not give it another 


459 


GLORIA MUNDI 


thought,” she said, but with no touch ot 
dictation in her musing tone. Her eyes 
dwelt upon him with a remote and ruminat- 
ing gaze. ‘‘I belong to a past generation. 
My chances in the lottery are all exhausted 
— things of the past. You must not bother 
about me. And I think you ought to give 
up those ideas of yours about breaking 
away, as you call it. London hasn’t been 
made pleasant for you, simply because the 
wrong people have gone the wrong way 
about it to arrange matters for you. But 
there are extremely nice people among the 
set you kpow, if you once understood them. 
With your position, you can command any 
kind of associations you wish to have. 
After it is all said and done, I think England 
has its full share of cultivated and refined 
people of intelligence. I have not seen 
much of the Continent, but I do not believe 
that it possesses any superiority over us in 
that respect. ’ ’ 

‘‘But in your own case,” urged Christian, 
somewhat hazily; ‘‘you said that there were 
no honest people about you to warn you — 
though you were in the best society. That 
is my feeling — that you do not get the truth 
from them. They do not lie to you — but 
they are silent about the truth. ’ ’ 

“Is it different elsewhere?” she asked, 
460 


GLORIA MUNDI 


gravely. “Is not the young girl sold every- 
where? Do you think that marriage is a 
more sacred and ethereal thing among the 
great families of France or Austria or Ger- 
many than it is with us? I have heard 
differently. ” 

“Oh, we are all equally uncivilized about 
women,” he admitted. “I feel very 
strongly about that. But you, who have 
such knowledge and such clear opinions — 
would you not love to do something to alter 
this injustice to women? The thought has 
been much in my mind, of late.” He 
paused to reflect in fleeting wonderment 
upon the fact that only this morning he had 
been absorbed in it. “And my meaning 
is,” he stumbled on, “there is nothing I 
would rather devote my life to than the task 
of making existence easier and broader and 
more free for young women. Could there 
be any finer work than that? I know that it 
appeals to you. ’ ’ 

She looked at him with an element of 
doubt in her glance. “Nothing appeals very 
much to me — and I’m afraid my sex least of 
all. I do not like them, to tell the truth. I 
never get over the surprised disgust of wak- 
ing up in the morning and finding that I am 
one of them. But this is rather wandering 
from the point, isn’t it? I was urging you 
461 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to give over the notion of making a demon- 
stration. You have waited thus long; be 
content to wait just a little longer. My 
private belief is that the Duke will not live 
the week out. ’ ’ 

Still, the assurance seemed to suggest 
nothing to him. “But if he dies,” he pro- 
tested, “how then will I be different? I am 
lonely — I am like a forlorn man escaped on 
a raft from a shipwreck — I eat my heart out in 
friendless solitude. And if I have a great 
title — why, then I shall be more alone than 
ever. It is that way with such men — I have 
seen that they hold themselves aloof — and 
others do not come freely near them. It 
frightens me — the thought of living without 
friends. I say to you solemnly that I would 
give it all — the position, the authority and 
dignity, the estates, Caermere, everything — 
for the assurance of one warm, human heart 
answering in every beat to mine! Has 
friendship perished out of the world, then? 
Or has it never existed, except in the books?” 

Her beauty had never been so manifest to 
him, as now while he gazed at her, and she 
did not speak. There seemed the faint, 
delicate hint of a tenderness in the classical 
lines of the face that he had not seen before. 
It was as if his appeal had brought forth 
some latent aptitude of romance, to mellow 
462 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the direct glance of her eyes, and soften in 
some subtle way the whole charm of her 
presence. A new magic was visible in her 
loveliness — and the sense that his words had 
conjured it into being thrilled him with a 
wistful pride. No woman had thus moved 
him heretofore. The perception that she 
was plastic to his mental touch — that this 
flower-like marvel of comeliness and grace, 
of exquisite tastes and pure dignity of soul, 
could be swayed by his suggestion, would 
vibrate at the tone of his voice — awed him 
as if he were confronted by a miracle. His 
breath came and went under a dull con- 
sciousness of pain — which was yet more like 
pleasure. A bell sounded somewhere within 
the house, and its brief crystal resonance 
seemed somehow to clarify the ferment of 
his thoughts. All at once, as by the flood- 
ing of sunlight into a darkened labyrinth, his 
mind was clear to him. He knew what he 
wanted — nay, what all the years had been 
leading him up to desire. 

With his gaze maintained upon her face — 
timidly yet with rapturous intentness, as if 
fearful of breaking the spell — he rose to his 
feet, and stood over her. A confusion of 
unspoken words trembled on his lips, as her 
slow glance lifted itself to his. 

“It was like the pleasantry of a beautiful, 
463 


GLORIA MUNDI 


roguish little girl” — he began, smiling nerv- 
ously down at her — “your saying that you 
belonged to a generation earlier than mine. 
Do you think I do not know my generation? 
And am I blind, that I do not see what is 

most precious in it? This is what ” 

An extraordinary outburst of disputing 
voices, in the little hallway close at hand, 
broke in upon his words. He stopped, 
stared inquiringly at Lady Cressage, and 
beheld her rise, frowning and hard-eyed, 
and step toward the door. A vague sense of 
the familiar came to him from the louder 
of the accents outside. 

The door was opened, and the domestic, 
red-faced, and spluttering with wrath, began 
some stammered explanation to her mis- 
tress. What she sought to say did not 
appear, for on the instant the door was 
pushed farther back, and a veiled lady took 
up her energetic stand upon the threshold. 

“Don’t blame her,” this lady cried, in 
high, rapid tones. “I forced my way in — 
something told me that you were at home. 

And when you hear my news ” 

“Oh, since you are here” — Lady Cres- 
sage began, coldly. “But, really, Mrs. 
Toit ” 

“Oh, no — call me Cora!” the other inter- 
rupted, vivaciously. 

464 


GLORIA MUNDI 


She went further, and bustling her arms 
against Edith’s shoulders, purported to kiss 
her on both cheeks. Then, drawing back 
her head, she went on: “My dear, the duke 
died at two this morning! It’s in all the 
papers. But what isn’t in any of the papers 
is that the heir is missing. It’s a very 
curious story. Mr. Westland here’’ — by her 
gesture it seemed that Dicky was behind her 
in the hallway — “went to Duke Street this 
noon, and found Christian’s man in great 
alarm. The youngster had bolted, leaving 
a note saying merely that he was called 
away. Mr. Westland then hunted me up, 
and we started out, for I had a kind of clue, 
don’t you see. I knew where he was at ten 
o’clock this forenoon — and we drove to 
Arundel Street, and there we found ’’ 

Christian hurriedly stepped forward. 
“Oh, I think you may take it that I am not 
lost, ’ ’ he called out, revealing himself to the 
astonished Cora. For the moment the chief 
thing in his mind was satisfaction at having 
interrupted her disclosures about Arundel 
Street. 

Then, as other thoughts crowded in upon 
him, he straightened his shoulders and lifted 
his chin. “It’s all right,’’ he said, with a 
reassuring wave of the hand toward the 
womenfolk of his family. 

465 



PART IV 


CHAPTER XXII 

On the morning of the funeral, six days 
later, Christian rose very early, and took 
coffee in his library shortly after seven. 
Then, lighting a cigarette, he resumed work 
upon several drawers full of papers, open on 
the big table, where it had been left off the 
previous evening. The details of the task 
seemed already familiar to him. He 
scanned one document after another with an 
informed eye, and put it in its proper pile 
without hesitation. He made notes sug- 
gested by the contents of each, on the pad 
before him, with a quill pen and corrected 
the vagaries of this unaccustomed imple- 
ment, in the matter of blots and inadequate 
lines, with painstaking patience. There 
were steel nibs in abundance, and two gold 
stylographic pens, but he clung resolutely to 
the embarrassing feather. 

After a time he rested from his labors, and 
rang the bell beside his desk; almost upon 
467 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the instant Falkner appeared in the doorway. 

“If Mr. Westland is up,” said Christian, 
“you may ask him to join me here.” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” the smooth-voiced, 
soft-mannered man replied, and vanished. 

The young duke rose, yawned slightly and 
moved to the window nearest him. It 
opened, upon examination, and he stepped 
out on a narrow balcony of stone which 
skirted the front of the square tower he had 
quitted. The outlook seemed to be to the 
northeast, for a patch of sunshine lay upon 
the outer edge of the balcony at the right. 
Breathing in delightedly the fresh May- 
morning air, he gazed upon the bold pros- 
pect of hills receding in lifted terraces high 
against the remote sky-line. He had not 
seen just this view from Caermere before — 
and he said to himself that it was finer than 
all the others. Above each lateral stretch of 
purplish-gray granite, to the farthest dis- 
tance, there ran a band of cool green foliage 
— the inexpressibly tender green of young 
birch trees; their thin, chalk-white stems 
were revealed in delicate tracery against 
indefinable sylvan shadows. 

Through the early stillness, he could hear 
the faint murmur of the Devor, gurgling in 
the depths of the ravine between him and 
the nearest hill. ‘ ‘ To-morrow, ’ ’ he thought, 

468 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“will begin the true life! All this will be 
my home — mine! mine! and before any- 
body is up in the morning I will be down 
where that river of black water runs, and 
fish in the deep pools for trout. ’ ’ 

Some one touched his elbow. He turned 
with a quick nod and smile to greet Dicky 
Westland. “I am up ages before you, you 
see,” he said genially. “It was barely day- 
light when I woke — and I suffered tortures 
trying to remain in bed even till six. Oh, 
this is wonderful out here!” 

“Awfully jolly place, all round,” com- 
mented Dicky. He blinked to exorcise the 
spirit of sleep and gazed at the prospect 
with determined enthusiasm. “I haven’t 
looked about much, but I’ve found out one 
thing already. There’s a ghost in my room 
— and I think he must have been a pro- 
fessional pedestrian in life. ’ ’ 

“Splendid!” cried Christian, gaily. “Have 
you had coffee — or it is tea you people 
drink, isn’t it? Then shall we get to work? 
I want the papers out of the way before 
Emanuel comes. They will all be here 
between nine and ten. I wanted to send 
carriages to Craven Arms, but it seemed 
there were not horses enough, so hired traps 
are to be brought up from the station.” 

“Do you know who are coming?” 

469 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Lord Julius, and Emanuel and his wife; 
the captain and his wife and brother ; Lord 
Chobham, and Lord Lingfield — I don’t 
know if any of their women will come — and 
Lady Cressage. Then there are some 
solicitors, and perhaps some old acquaint- 
ances of my grandfather’s. At all events, 
Welldon has ordered four carriages and a 
break. There is to be breakfast at ten, and 
I shall be glad when it is all over — when 
everything is over. Do you know? — I have 
never been to a funeral in my life — and I 
rather funk it. ” 

“Oh, they’re not so bad as you always 
think they’re going to be,” said the secre- 
tary, consolingly. “The main thing is the 
gloves. I never could understand it — but 
black gloves are invariably about two sizes 
smaller than ordinary colors. You want to 
look out for that. But I dare say your man 
is up to the trick — he looks a knowing party, 
does Falkner. ” 

“I fancy I shall give him back to Eman- 
uel,” remarked Christian, thoughtfully. 
“He is an excellent servant, but he reminds 
me too much of Duke Street. Did you 
notice the old butler yesterday afternoon? — 
he stood at the head of the steps to meet us 
— that is old Barlow. I have a great affection 
for him. I shall have him valet me, I think. ’ ’ 
470 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Isn’t he rather venerable for the job?” 
suggested the other. “And wouldn’t it be 
rather a come-down for a head butler? 
They’re awfully keen about their distinc- 
tions among themselves, you know.” 

Christian smiled with placidity. “I think 
that the man whom I pick out to be nearest 
me will feel that he has the best place in the 
household. I shall be very much surprised 
indeed if that isn’t Barlow’s view. And of 
course he will have his subordinates. But 
now let us take Welldon’s statement for the 
last half of ’95, and the two halves of ’96. 
Then we can get to the mine. Unless I am 
greatly mistaken, that is most important. I 
find that the mining company’s lease falls in 
early next year. And won’t you ring the bell 
and have Welldon sent up when he comes?’’ 

Upon mature reflection Christian decided 
not to descend to meet his guests at breakfast. 
When he had dismissed the estate agent, 
Welldon, after a prolonged and very compre- 
hensive interview, he announced this 
decision to Westland. “You must go down 
and receive them in my place, ’ ’ he said. 

“I will say that you have a cold,” sug- 
gested Dicky. 

“By no means,” returned Christian, 
promptly. 


471 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“It is not necessary to enter into details. 
You receive them — that is all. I have 
spoken with Barlow; he knows what to do 
with them in the matter of rooms and so on. 
I am breakfasting here. And afterward — 
say at eleven o’clock — I will see some of 
them here. There is an hour to spare then, 
before we go to the church. I am not clear 
about this — which ones to see first. There 
is that stupid reading of the will after we 
get back ” 

“By George! do they do that still?” inter- 
rupted Dicky. ‘ ‘ I know they did in Trollope 
and George Eliot — but I thought it had gone 
out.” 

“It is kept up in old families,” replied 
Christian, simply. “In this case it is a pure 
formality, of course. There is no mystery 
whatever. The will was made in 1859, 
after the entail was broken, and merely 
bequeaths everything in general terms to the 
heir-at-law. My grandfather covenanted, at 
the same time, to Lord Julius to make no 
subsequent will save by his advice and con- 
sent — so that there can<be no complications 
of any kind. I am thinking whether it 
would be better to see Lord Julius and 
Emanuel before the reading of this will or 
after. Really it makes no difference — per- 
haps it is better to get it over with. Yes — 


472 


GLORIA MUNDI 


say to them that I beg they will come to me 
here at eleven. You might bring them up 
and then leave us together — or no, they 
know the way. Let them come up by them- 
selves. ” 

Through the open window there came the 
grinding sound of wheels upon the gravel of 
the drive, around at the east front. At a 
gesture from the other, Dicky hurried away. 

Left to himself, Christian wandered again 
to the casement, and regarded the spacious 
view with renewed interest. Falkner 
entered presently, bearing a large tray, and 
spread some covered dishes upon a cloth on 
the library table. 

“How many carriages have come?” the 
master asked from his place at the window. 

“Four, Your Grace — and a break with 
some wreaths and Lord Chobham’s man and 
a maid — I think it is Lady Cressage’s maid. ’’ 

“Who has come — outside the family?” 

“Three gentlemen, Your Grace — one of 
them is Mr. Soman. Barlow thinks they 
are all solicitors. ’ ’ 

Christian mused briefly upon the presence 
of Lord Julius’s man of business. Since 
that first evening of his on English soil, at 
Brighton, he had not seen this Mr. Soman. 
He remembered nothing of him, indeed, 
save his green eyes. And now that he 
473 


GLORIA MUNDI 


thought of it, even this was not a personal 
recollection. It was the remark of the girl 
on the boat, about his having green eyes, 
which stuck in his memory. He smiled, as 
he looked idly out on the hills. 

The girl on the boat! Was it not strange 
that his mind should have applied to her 
this distant and chilling designation? Only 
a few days ago — it would not be a week till 
to-morrow — she had seemed to him the most 
important person in the world. A vision of 
his future had possessed him, in which she 
alone had a definite share. How remote it 
seemed — and how curious! 

He recalled, quite impersonally, what he 
had heard in one way or another about her 
family. Her father was some sort of under- 
ling in the general post office — a clerk or 
accountant, or something of the kind. There 
was a son — of course, that would be the 
brother Cora had spoken of — and the ambi- 
tion of the family had expended itself in 
sending this boy to a public school, and to 
the university. The family had made great 
sacrifices to do this — and apparently these 
had been wasted. He had the distinct 
impression of having been told that the son 
was a worthless fellow. How often that 
occurred in England — that everything was 
done for the son, and nothing at all for the 
474 


GLORIA MUNDI 


daughters ! Then in fairness he reflected 
that it was even worse in France. Yes, but 
somehow Frenchwomen had a talent for 
doing for themselves. They were cleverer 
than their brothers — more helpful, resource- 
ful — in spite of the fact that the brothers had 
monopolized the advantages. Images of 
capable, managing Frenchwomen he had 
known rose before his mind’s eye ; he saw 
them again accomplishing wonders of work, 
diligent, wise, sensible, understanding 
everything that was said or done. Yet, 
oddly enough, these very paragons of 
feminine capacity had a fatal unfeminine 
defect ; they did not know how to bring up 
their sons. Upon that side they were 
incredibly weak and silly ; it was impossible 
to prevent their making pampered fools of 
their boys. 

Suddenly his vagrant fancies were concen- 
trated upon the question of how Frances 
Bailey would bring up a boy — a son of her 
own. It was an absurd query to have raised 
itself in his mind — and he put it away from 
him with promptitude. There remained, 
however, a kind of mental protest lodged on 
her behalf among his thoughts. He per- 
ceived that in his ruminations he had done 
her an injustice. She was not inferior in 
capability or courage to any of the self- 
475 


GLORIA MUNDI 


sufficient Frenchwomen he had been think- 
ing of, and in the matter of intellectual 
attainments was she not immeasurably 
superior to them all? The translucent calm 
of her mind — penetrating, far-reaching, 
equable as the starlight — how queer that it 
should be coupled with such a bad temper ! 
She always quarreled with him, and bullied 
him, when they were together. Even 
when she was exhibiting to him the sunniest 
aspects of her mood, there was always a 
latent defiance of him underneath, ready 
to spring forth at a word. He remembered 
how, at the close of their first meeting, she 
had refused to tell him her name. He saw 
now that this obstinacy of hers had annoyed 
him more than he had imagined. For an 
instant it assumed almost the character of a 
grievance — but then his attention fastened 
itself at random upon the remarkable fact 
that he had seen her only twice in his life. 
Upon reflection, this did seem very strange 
indeed. But it was the fact — and in the 
process of readjusting his impressions of the 
past six months to fit with it, the figure of 
her receded in his mind, grew less as she 
moved away under a canopy of dull yellow- 
ish-green, which vaguely identified itself 
with the trees on the Embankment. She 
dwindled thus till he thought of her again, 
476 


GLORIA MUNDI 


with a dim impulse of insistence upon the 
phrase, as the girl on the boat. The transi- 
tion to thoughts of other things gave his 
mind no sort of trouble. 

He pondered some of these other things — 
formlessly and light-heartedly — while he 
stood at the library table, and picked morsels 
here and there from the dishes laid for him. 
His absence of appetite he referred tacitly 
to the warmth of the day, as it was sunnily 
developing itself outside. Here on this 
shaded side of the castle, it was cool enough, 
but there was the languor of spring in the 
air. He scrutinized this new library of his 
afresh. Until Barlow had opened it for 
him, shortly after his arrival yesterday, it 
could not have been used for years. Most 
of its appointments had a very ancient look ; 
no doubt they must date back at least to the 
seventh Duke’s time. It was incredible 
that his grandfather, the eighth Duke, 
should have been inspired to furnish a 
library. There were many shelves of appar- 
ently very old books as well, but there was 
also a vast deal of later rubbish — stock and 
sporting annuals, veterinary treatises, 
county directories and the like — which he 
would lose no time in putting out. He saw 
already how delightful a room could be 
made of it. It had the crowning merit of 


477 


GLORIA MUNDI 


being connected with the suite of apartments 
he had chosen for his own. From the door 
at the side, opposite the fine old fireplace, 
one entered the antechamber to his dressing- 
room. This gave to the library an intimate 
character, upon which he reflected with 
pleasure. Here he would come, secure 
from interruption, and spend among his 
books the choicest and most fruitful hours of 
his leisure. It was plain to him that hence- 
forth he would do a great deal of reading, 
and perhaps — why not? — of writing too. 

There was a rap upon the door, and then 
Falkner, opening it, announced Lord Julius 
and his son. They came in together, 
diffusing an impalpable effect of constraint. 
The elder man seemed in Christian’s eyes 
bigger than ever; his white beard spread 
over the broad chest like a vine run wild. 
Emanuel, who lapsed in the wake of his 
father, was unexpectedly small by com- 
parison. The shadows, where the two stood, 
emphasized the angular peculiarities of his 
bald head. His thin face took an effect of 
sallow pallor from his black clothes. Al- 
ready he had his black gloves in his hands. 

Christian stepped forward to meet them — 
and was suddenly conscious of the necessity 
for an apology. “I did not come down,” he 
murmured, as he shook hands with a grave 
478 


GLORIA MUNDI 


smile — “I am not quite master of myself yet. 
It is still strange to me. But come to the 
window, and let us sit down.” 

They followed him, and took the chairs 
he pushed out for them. He perched him- 
self on the corner of the big table, and 
lightly stroked the glazed boot of the foot 
which was not on the floor. ‘‘I am glad to 
hear that Kathleen has come,” he said to 
his cousin. “I hope she is very well.” 

4 ‘ Extremely so, ’ ’ replied Emanuel. Then, 
upon reflection, he added, “We had hoped 
that you would come to us, on your way 
down from London. ” 

“There was so much to do in town,” ex- 
plained Christian, hazily. “My grand- 
father’s lawyers came up at once from 
Shrewsbury, and it was necessary to see a 
good deal of them — and then there were the 
tailors and outfitters. It was all I could do 
to get away yesterday morning. And of 
course — by that time I was needed here.” 
He turned to the other. “And you are 
very well, Uncle Julius?” 

“I am well,” said the elder man, with 
what Christian suspected for the instant to 
be significant brevity. The father and son 
had exchanged a look, as well, which seemed 
to have a meaning beyond his comprehension. 
But then he forgot these momentary doubts 
479 


GLORIA MUNDI 


in the interest of the discovery that there 
were tears in his great-uncle’s eyes. 

Lord Julius unaffectedly got out a hand- 
kerchief, and wiped them away. He looked 
up at the young man as through a mist. 
“I never dreamed that I should feel it so 
much,” he said, huskily. “I am amazed at 
myself — and then ashamed at my amaze- 
ment — but Kit’s death has somehow put me 
about and upset me to a tremendous extent. 
There was thirteen years between us — but 
when you get to be an old man, that seems 
no more than as many weeks. And Eman- 
uel” — he addressed his son with the 
solemnity befitting a revelation — “I am an 
old man.” 

Emanuel frowned a little in his abstracted 
fashion. “You are less old than any other 
man of your years in England,” he protested. 

Christian, listening, somehow found no 
conviction in these reassuring words. It 
dawned upon him suddenly that Lord Julius 
had in truth aged a great deal. The per- 
ception of this disarranged the speech he 
had in his mind. 

“There are a thousand things to be talked 
over,” he began, with an eye upon Eman- 
uel, “but I do not know if this is quite the 
opportune time. I wished to lose no time in 
seeing you both, of course — but you will not 
480 ' 


GLORIA MUNDI 


be hurrying away. No doubt there will be 
a better opportunity. ’ ’ 

“I don’t think it will be found that there 
is so very much to say, ' ’ remarked Eman- 
uel. A gentle but persistent melancholy 
seemed to pervade his tone. 

“There is the complication” — Christian 
began again, and hesitated. “That is to say 
— you know even better and more fully than 
I do, to what a great extent I am in your 
hands. And there the complication, as I 
said, arises. I have been working very hard 
on the figures — with the lawyers in London, 
and here since I arrived — but before we 
touch those at all, I ought to tell you 
frankly, Emanuel : I do not see my way to 
meeting the conditions which you suggested 
to me last autumn, when we met first.” 

Emanuel seemed in no wise perturbed by 
the announcement. His nervous face main- 
tained its unmoved gravity. “It was never 
anything more than a pious hope that you 
would,” he commented. “I may add,” he 
went on, “that even this hope cannot be said 
to have survived your first visit. Other- 
wise, I should have tried to have you see 
London under different auspices — through 
different eyes.” 

The calmness with which the decision he 
had regarded as so momentous met accept- 
481 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ance disconcerted Christian. He had 
mentally prepared for the defense of his 
hostile attitude toward the System — and, lo ! 
not a syllable of challenge was forthcoming. 

“But there remains, all the same, the 
principal difficulty,” he said, thinking hard 
upon his words. “It does not lessen my 
obligations to you as my chief creditors.” 
He looked from one to the other, as if in 
uncertainty as to which was the master mind. 
“You have both been very open with me. 
You have told me why it was that you 
devoted a large fortune to buying up the 
mortgages on the estate which is now mine 
— and to lending always more money upon 
it — until now the interest eats up the income 
like a visitation of locusts. But my knowl- 
edge of the motives does not help me. And 
you must not think, either, ’ ’ his confidence 
was returning now, and with it a better con- 
trol over his phrases — “that I am begging 
for help. I look the situation in the face, 
and I do not feel that I am afraid of it. I 
see already many ways in which I can make a 
better fight of it than my grandfather made. ’ ’ 

Lord Julius held up a hand. “Is there 
not a misconception there?” he asked, pleas- 
antly enough. “A fight involves antagonists 
— and I intervened in poor Kit’s affairs as a 
protector, not as an assailant.” 

482 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian stood erect, and knitted his 
brows in puzzled thought upon both the 
manner and the matter of these words. 

“But it is still the same,” he persisted. 
jt ! “You were his good friend — as I know you 
\ are mine — or hope very sincerely that you 
are — but none the less you were his over- 
whelmingly big creditor, as now you are 
mine. If one is greatly in debt, then one 
struggles to get out. It is in that sense that 
I meant the word ‘fight.’ And, to repeat, I 
: see many ways of making progress. I find 
that Welldon is not exclusively my man. 
He is the agent of three other estates as 
well, because we could not pay him enough 
here for all of his services. That I will alter 
at once. I find that we have no mineral 
bailiff. The company at Coalbrook has paid 
such royalties as it pleased, without check 
of any sort. We have the right to examine 
their books, but it has never been exercised. 
Next week my secretary and Welldon go to 
Coalbrook. I find that the company’s lease 
of twenty-one years expires next February. 
Eh bien! It will be strange if I do not get 
ten thousand pounds hereafter, where less 
than four has come in hitherto. My lawyers 
already know of capitalists who desire to bid 
for the new lease — and the estimate of 
increase is theirs, not mine. But these are 
483 


GLORIA MUNDI 


details. I mention them to you only to 
show you that I am not afraid. But anxious, 
I do not deny that I am. I have not been 
bred to these things — and I may easily make 
mistakes. It would take a great load off my 
mind if — if, in some measure, you would be 
my advisers as well as my creditors. ’ ’ 

“Why should you ever have doubted that?” 
asked Emanuel, in a tone of somber kindli- 
ness. 

“Ah, but I do not mean advice about the 
management of the estate,” put in Chris- 
tian, with an over-eager instinct of self- 
defense. “I do not shrink from taking that 
completely on my own shoulders. I would 
not trouble you with anything of that sort. 
But of larger matters ” 

“There is one large matter,” interrupted 
Lord Julius, speaking with great delibera- 
tion, “which I find outweighing all others in 
my mind. It is not new to my mind — but 
to-day it pushes everything else aside. It 
is the thought of the family itself. I have 
told you this before — let me say it to you 
again. Everything that I have done — every 
penny that I have laid out — has been with 
this one end in view — the family. Yet this 
morning I have been thinking of it — and I 
am frightened. While poor old Kit lingered 
along, it was not so easy to grasp it, somehow 
484 


GLORIA MUNDI 


— but his going off makes it glaring. There 
are too few of us. I am alone in my genera- 
tion — and so is Emanuel in his — and so are 
you in yours, save for those rowdy simple- 
tons Eddy and Gus. And beyond you, there 
is only that little girl baby of Cora Bayard’s! 
I want you to marry, Christian. I want to 
see sons of yours growing up here at 
Caermere — hearty, fine boys to carry the 
name of Torr along. That I am really in 
earnest about. By comparison with it, 
nothing else on earth matters — for us.” 

“Oh, I shall marry,” Christian replied, in 
smiling seriousness. “Of course, that is the 
obvious thing to be done. And now” — he 
looked at his watch — “it is time for me to 
dress. It is arranged that you and Emanuel 
and Kathleen drive to the church in the car- 
riage with me. It is not quite orthodox 
precedence, I know, but I could not bear to 
— to have it otherwise. And we will think 
no more about those other matters until to- 
morrow. ” 

“Other matters,” repeated Lord Julius, 
and exchanged a look with his son as they 
rose. “My dear Christian, there are no 
other matters.” 

“No — not till to-morrow,” answered 
Christian, with a doubtful smile. “But then 
I am afraid there are a good many.” 

485 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Emanuel filled in the pause. “Mr. Soman 
has brought all the papers, ’ ’ he said, with a 
flitting return to his lighter manner. “It is 
my father’s meaning that the mortgages are 
extinguished.” 

Christian gazed from one to the other with 
a face full of stupefaction. His knees shook 
and sought to bend under him. Tremblingly 
he essayed to speak — and his lips would 
make no sound. 

Lord Julius laid his big hand on the young 
man’s shoulder — and Christian, dimly recall- 
ing the effect of this touch in the days when 
he had first known it, thrilled at the novel 
restfulness it somehow now conferred. 

“Only show me a son of yours,” said the 
old man, with tender gravity. “Let me see 
an heir before I die.” 

Without further words, the two left him. 
Christian, staring at the shadowed door 
through which they had vanished, remained 
standing. His confused brain quailed in 
the presence of thoughts more stupendous 
than the ancient hills outside. 


486 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Several thousand people caught that day 
their first curious glimpse of the new master 
of Caermere. At the most there were but a 
handful of aged persons, in the throng clus- 
tered along the sides of the road winding 
down from the Castle to the partially 
restored medieval collegiate church in the 
valley, who could remember any other duke 
than the one being borne now to lie among 
his fathers. The fact that these venerable 
folk, without exception, were in the enjoy- 
ment of a day’s holiday from the workhouse, 
might have interested a philosopher, had it 
been pressed upon his attention. 

Quite two hundred horsemen, mounted in 
their own saddles on their own beasts, rode 
in the long procession which descended 
from Caermere toward the close of the noon 
hour. Clad in decent black for the greater 
part, with old silk hats or other formal and 
somber headgear, they jogged sedately in 
unison as the curbed horses stepped with 
caution down the hill. Their browned and 
large-featured faces wore a uniform mask of 
solemnity — distinguished chiefly by a reso- 
487 


GLORIA MUNDI 


lute contraction of brows and lips, and eyes 
triumphantly cleared of all traces of specula- 
tion. They looked down, as they passed, 
upon the humbler dalesmen and laborers of 
the hillsides, and their womenfolk and 
swarming children, with an impassive, 
opacated gaze. 

On the green, before the little covered 
gateway to the churchyard, dull murmurs 
spread through this cortege, propelled side- 
long from mouths which scorned to open; 
the main principles of a proposed evolution 
came slowly, in some mysterious way, to be 
comprehended among them: after almost 
less backing and pushing into one another 
than might have been expected, they per- 
ceived themselves emerging into an orderly 
arrangement, by which they lined the two 
sides of the carriage-way crossing the green 
They regarded each other across this signifi- 
cant strip of gravel with a gloomy stolidity of 
pride: the West Salop Yeomanry could 
scarcely have done it better. Then another 
rustle of whispered sounds along their ranks 
toward the church— and the civic side of 
their demonstration came uppermost. With 
a tightened left hand upon the reins, they 
removed their hats, and held them so that 
they could most readily read the names of 
the makers inside. 


488 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The carriages bearing the family of Torr, 
preceded by the curtained hearse, and fol- 
lowed by a considerable number of brough- 
ams and closed landaus recognizable as the 
property of the neighboring gentry, moved 
silently forward along this lane of uncovered 
horsemen. The distant swelling moan of 
the organ floated on the May air, in effect a 
comment upon the fact that the tolling of the 
bell in the tower had ceased. 

The intermittent noise of carriage-doors 
being sharply shut, and of wheels getting 
out of the way, proceeded from the head of 
the procession at the gate — and tenants and 
other undistinguished people on foot began 
to press forward between the ranks. The 
horsemen, with furtive glances to right and 
left, put on their hats again, and let the 
restive animals stretch their muscles in the 
path. A few, dismounting, and giving their 
bridles over to boys, joined those who were 
moving toward the church. The majority, 
drawing their horses aside into groups 
formed at random, and incessantly shifting, 
lent their intellects, and in some restrained 
measure their tongues, to communion upon 
the one great problem of the day : — would 
the new Duke set the Hunt on its legs again? 

The question was so intimately connected 
with their tenderest emotions and convic- 
489 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tions, that no one liked to speak of it 
thoughtlessly or upon hasty impulse. Even 
those who doubted most, shrank from hear- 
ing the prophecies of evil they felt prone 
to utter. Men who nourished almost 
buoyant hopes still hesitated to create a con- 
fidence which must be so precarious. While 
the faint sustained recitative of the priest in 
the church could be heard, insistent and 
disturbing like the monotone of a distant 
insect, and then the sounds of the organ 
once more, and of singing, fell upon the 
sunlit green, the horsemen spoke cautiously 
about the hounds. Even before Lord Por- 
lock’s death, things had not been what they 
should have been. The pack was even then, 
as one might say, falling between two stools. 
The Torrs hadn’t the money to keep the 
thing up properly themselves, but they 
showed their teeth savagely the minute men- 
tion was made of getting in some outside 
help. But since Porlock’s death — well, the 
condition of affairs had been too painful for 
words. The horsemen shook their heads in • 
dumb eloquence upon this tragic interval. 
The Kennels had lapsed into a state hardly 
to be thought of, much less discussed. 
There had been no puppy- walk. Were there 
any young dogs at all? And, just heavens! 
if there were, what must they be like! 


490 


GLORIA MUNDI 


And yet the country-side, outraged as it 
felt itself to be in its finest feelings, beheld 
itself helpless. The old Duke — but really 
this was not just the time and place for say- 
ing what they felt about the old Duke 
They glanced uneasily toward the church 
when this theme suggested itself, and 
nodded with meaning to one another. It 
could be taken for granted that there were 
no illusions among them concerning him. 
But what about the new man? Eyes bright- 
ened, lips quivered in beseeching inquiry, at 
the mention of this omnipotent stranger. 
What was he like? Had anybody heard any- 
thing that Welldon had said about him? It 
seemed that he was French bred, and that, 
considered by itself, might easily involve the 
worst. But then, was there not a story that 
he had ridden to the hounds in Derbyshire? 
Perhaps the younger generation of French- 
men were better fellows than their fathers — 
but then, there was the reported fact that the 
Duke of Orleans fell off his horse and broke 
his leg whenever he tried to ride. Sir 
George had been informed in Paris that he 
would have been King of France by this 
time if he had been able to stick in a saddle. 
Yet, when one thought of it, did not this 
very fact indicate a fine new public senti- 
ment in France, on the subject of horse- 


491 


GLORIA MUNDI 


manship — and perhaps even of sport in 
general? 

Christian, at the door of the church, had 
thought most of clenching his teeth, and 
straining his upper-arms against his sides, to 
keep from trembling. He had not pictured 
himself, beforehand, as entering this burial 
place of his ancestors alone. Yet, in the 
churchyard, that was how the matter 
arranged itself. His first idea had been to 
lead, with Kathleen on his arm — but she had 
said her place was with Emariuel instead. 
Then the alternative of walking arm-in-arm 
with Lord Julius had seemed to him even 
more appropriate — but this too, in the con- 
fused constraint of the moment, had gone 
wrong. Stealing an anxious half-glance 
over his shoulder, he discovered that Lord 
Julius had placed himself at Kathleen’s other 
side. The slight gesture of appealing invi- 
tation which he ventured upon did not catch 
the old man’s eye. There was nothing for 
it but to stand alone. 

To be the strange, unsupported central 
figure in such a pageant unnerved him. He 
stood tremulously behind the pall — a burden 
draped with a great purple embroidered 
cloth, and borne upon the shoulders of eight 
peasant-laborers from the estate — and noted 
fleetingly that, so stunted and mean of 
492 


GLORIA MUNDI 


stature were these poor hinds, he looked 
with ease above them, over their load, into 
the faces of the two priests advancing down 
the walk toward him. 

These persons, an elderly, dark man, with 
a red hood folded upon his shoulders, and a 
thin-faced fair young man, seemed to return 
the gaze with meaning. He caught himself 
feeling that their eyes deferred to him ; yes, 
if they had bowed to the ground, the effect 
of their abasement before him could not 
have been more palpable. Looking per- 
functorily across the chasm of death, their 
glances sought to, make interest with the 
living. He hated them both on the instant. 
As they wheeled, and by their measured 
steps forward drew slowly in their wake the 
bearers of the pall, the chant of the elder — 
“I am the Resurrection and the Life” — came 
vaguely to his ears, and found them hostile. 

The interior of the old church — dim, cool, 
cloistral — was larger than Christian had 
assumed from its outer aspect. Many people 
were present, crowded close in the pews 
nearest the door — and strangely enough, it 
was his perception that these were chiefly 
women, of some unlabeled class which at 
least was not his own, that brought to him 
of a sudden self-command. He followed the 
bier up the aisle to its resting-place before 


493 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the rail, took tacit cognizance of the place 
indicated to him by some man in profes- 
sional black, and stood aside to let Kathleen 
pass in before him, all with a restored 
equanimity in which he was himself much 
interested. Through the reading of the 
Psalm and the Epistle he gave but the most 
vagrant attention to their words. The 
priests read badly, for one thing ; the whin- 
ing artificiality of their elocution annoyed 
and repelled him. But still more, his 
thoughts were diverted by the suggestive- 
ness of everything about him. 

Especially, the size of the funeral gather- 
ing, and of the mounted and wheeled pro- 
cession, had impressed him. There need be 
no pretense that affection or esteem for the 
dead man had brought out, from the sparsely 
populated country round about, this great 
multitude. Precisely for that reason, it 
became a majestic fact. The burial of a 
Duke of Glastonbury had nothing to do with 
personal qualities or reputation. It was like 
the passing away of a monarch. People 
who cared nothing for the individual were 
stirred and appealed to by the vicissitudes of 
an institution. Inset upon the walls around 
him were marble tablets, and more archaic 
canopies of stone over little carved effigies 
of kneeling figures; beyond, at the sides of 


494 


GLORIA MUNDI 


the chancel, he could see the dark, rectangu- 
lar elevations of the tombs, capped by 
recumbent mail-clad statues, with here and 
there a gleam of gilt or scarlet retained from 
their ancient ornamentation ; even as he had 
walked slowly up the aisle, his downcast 
eyes had noticed the chiseled heraldry of 
stones beneath his feet. Everywhere about 
him was the historic impact of the Torrs. 
Their ashes were here — their banners and 
shields and tilting-helmets, their symbolical 
quarterings of the best arms of the West, 
their own proudest device of all. Their 
white bull on the green ground was familiar 
in England long before the broom-corn of 
the Angevins had been thought of. The 
clerkly pun on Tor and Taurus was as like as 
not older than the English language itself. 
All this made something mightier, more 
imposing and enduring, than any edifice to 
be reared by man alone. It was only in part 
human, this structure of the family. The 
everlasting hills were a part of it, the dark 
ranges of forests, the spirits and legends of 
the ancient Marches. 

“In the morning it is green , and growetli 
up; but in the evening it is cut down , dried up 
and withered , ’ ’ droned the young clergyman. 

But if man seemed to count for but little 
in this tremendous, forceful aggregation of 


495 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tradition and custom, yet again he might be 
all in all. The tall old man under the purple 
pall, there — it was easy to think con- 
temptuously of him. Christian recalled, in a 
kind of affrighted musing, that one view of 
his grandfather that he had had. The dis- 
gust with which he had heard the stupid, 
violent words from those aged lips revived 
within him — then changed to wonder. Was 
it not, after all, the principle of strength 
which most affected men’s minds? There 
had been discernible in that grandfather of 
his a certain sort of strength — dull, unintel- 
ligent, sinister, half-barbarous, but still 
strength. Was it not that which had 
brought forth the two hundred horsemen? 
And if this one element, of strength — yes, 
you might call it brute strength — were lack- 
ing, then would all the other fine qualities 
in the world avail to hold the impalpable, 
intangible combination together? 

“ 'He shall have put down all rule , and all 
authority , and power.' ” It was the old parson 
who was reading now. “ 'For He must reign, 
till He hath put all enemies under His feet. ’ ” 

Yes, even in this Protestant religion to 
which he had passively become committed, 
force was the real ideal ! Christian ’ s wander- 
ing mind fastened itself for a moment upon 
the ensuing words of the lesson, but got 
496 


GLORIA MUNDI 


nothing from their confusing reiterations. 
He lapsed into reverie again, then started 
abruptly with the sudden perception that 
everybody in the church behind him must be 
looking at him. In the pew immediately 
behind, there would be Captain Edward and 
his wife, and Augustine ; in the one behind 
that Lady Cressage, Lord Chobham and his 
son; beyond them scores and scores of 
others seated in rows, and then a throng in 
the aisle and the doorway — all purporting to 
think of the dead, but fixing their eyes none 
the less on the living. And it was not alone 
in the church, but through the neighbor- 
hood, for miles round about: when men 
spoke of the old Duke who was gone, their 
minds would in truth be dwelling upon the 
new Duke who was come. A thrill ran 
through his veins as the words spelled them- 
selves out before his inner vision. The new 
Duke! He seemed never to have compre- 
hended what it meant before. 

No; and till this moment no genuine 
realization had come to him of this added 
meaning — this towering superstructure 
which the message of Julius and Emanuel 
had reared. It was only now that he hit 
upon the proper mental focus with which to 
contemplate this amazing thing. Not only 
was he a territorial ruler, one of the great 


497 


GLORIA MUNDI 


nobles of Europe, but he was the master of 
wealth almost beyond counting as well ! 

Those nearest to him were rising now, and 
he, obeying imperative impulses within him, 
lifted himself proudly to his feet. While the 
air throbbed with deep-voiced organ notes, 
in the pause which here ensued, his gaze 
rested upon the pall before him. There was 
a sense of transfiguration in the spectacle. 
The purple mantle became imperial Tyrian 
to his eyes — and something which was 
almost tenderness, almost reverence, yearned 
within him toward that silent, incased figure 
hidden beneath it. The mystic, omnipotent 
tie of blood gripped his heart. 

With a collected sidelong look he surveyed 
the profiles of Emanuel and Lord Julius to 
his left. Theirs were the lineaments of 
princes. As if he had eyes in the back of 
his head, he beheld Edward and Augustine, 
as fancy revealed them standing in the pew 
behind him. Tall, slim, athletic, fair — the 
figures his imagination made of them 
appealed to the new patriarchal spirit in his 
heart. Perhaps they were not wholly nice, 
these young men, but they also were princes, 
and they were of his race, and no one should 
persecute them, or despitefully use them. 

The uncouth little bearers of the dead had 
come forward again, and taken up their 
4Q8 


GLORIA MUNDI 


burden. In a small lady-chapel, extending 
from the transept at the left, the interment 
was to take place, and thither Christian now 
followed the pall, leading the menfolk of his 
family and the male guests of position who 
attached themselves to the group. Thus 
some score of black-clad figures clustered 
round the oblong opening in the old stone 
floor, and Christian, standing at its head, 
glanced impassively over the undefined 
throng of spectators gathered at the doorway. 

“ '‘Man that is born of woman hath but a 
short time to live , and is full of misery , ’ ” 
proclaimed the younger priest, with a sudden 
outburst of high-pitched, nasal tones which 
pierced the unexpectant ear. “ ‘ He cometh up, 
and is cut down , like a flower; he fleeth as it 
were a shadow , and never continueth in one 
stay.’ ” 

Christian, watching abstractedly the imper- 
sonal wedge of faces at the door, all at once 
caught his breath in a sharp spasm of 
bewildered amazement. The little book he 
had been holding fell from his hands, bal- 
anced on its edge for an instant and toppled 
over into the dark vault below. He seemed 
unconscious of the incident — but stared 
fixedly, with parted lips and astonished eyes, 
at the image of something he had seen out- 
side of the chapel. The thing itself had 


499 


GLORIA MUNDI 


apparently vanished. He perceived vaguely 
that people were looking at him — and with 
a determined effort regained control of his 
face and bearing. The puzzling thought 
that it might have been an illusion — that 
perhaps he had seen nothing at all — brought 
mingled confusion and solace to his mind. 
He put his hand to the open book which 
Lord J ulius at his side held toward him, and 
pretended to look at it. 

The coffin, now bereft of its purple cover- 
ing, had been lowered to its final place. One 
of the bearers, standing over the cavity, 
crumbled dry earth from his tanned and 
clumsy fingers, and it fell with a faint rattle 
upon some resonant, unseen surface. 

The phrase, “ ‘ Our dear brother , here de- 
parted ,’ ” stuck out with awkward obtrusive- 
ness. from among the words of the priest. 
“ ‘ Earth to earth, ashes to ashes , dust to 
dust 1 ” the sing-song went on. Then they 
were repeating the Lord’s Prayer together 
in a buzzing, fitful murmur. There were 
other prayers — and then Christian read in 
the faces of those about him that the cere- 
mony was finished. Accepting the sugges- 
tion of Lord Julius’s movement, he also 
bent over, and looked blankly down into the 
obscurity of the vault. But when he lifted 
his head again, it was to throw a more 


500 


GLORIA MUNDI 


searching and strenuous glance than ever 
over the knot of people outside the door. 
And yes ! — he had not been deceived. He 
distinctly saw the face again, and with light- 
ning swiftness verified its features. Beyond 
a shadow of doubt it was Frances Bailey 
whom he beheld, mysteriously present in 
this most unlikely of places. 

He withdrew his eyes and did not look 
that way again. The question whether she 
knew that he had recognized her, occupied 
his mind to the exclusion of all else, as he 
returned at the head of his followers to the 
body of the church. It still possessed his 
thoughts when he had joined the family 
group of chief mourners, loosely collecting 
itself in the aisle before the front pews, in 
waiting for the summons to the carriages. 
To some one he ought to speak at once, and 
for the moment his eye rested speculatively 
upon Cora. He identified her confidently, 
not only by her husband’s proximity, but by 
the fact that her mourning veil was much 
thicker and longer than any of the others. 
Some unshaped consideration, however, 
restrained him, and on a swift second 
thought he turned to Kathleen. 

“I want you to look,” he whispered to her, 
inclining his head — “on the other side of the 
church, just in a line between the second 
501 


GLORIA MUNDI 


pillar and the white-bearded figure in the 
window — there is a tall young woman, with 
the gray and black hat. Do you see her? 
In a kind of way she belongs to us — she is 
Cora’s sister, but I’m afraid if Cora asked 
her, she would not come to the Castle.” 

“Yes — once you talked to me about her,” 
Kathleen reminded him. 

‘‘Well, will you do this for me?” he con- 
tinued, in an eager murmur. ‘‘Go to her, 
and make sure that she promises to come up 
with the rest. It would be unforgivable — if 
we let her go away.” 

He had an uneasy feeling that Mrs. Eman- 
uel’s veil did not prevent her shrewd glance 
from reading him through and through — but 
he did not seek to dissemble the breath of 
relief with which he heard her assent. 


502 


CHAPTER XXIV 


“It was not a very easy task,” Kathleen 
found opportunity to say to Christian, half 
an hour later, as the family were assembling 
in his library. They stood together by the 
window nearest the table, and watched the 
embarrassed deportment of Lord Lingfield 
under the conversational attentions of Cora, 
as they talked in low tones. 

“But she is here in the Castle: that is the 
principal thing.” He did not shrink now 
from the implication of his words. 

“Yes, she finally consented to come,” 
explained the other. “I told her that you 
insisted upon it — and then — then I used some 
persuasion of my own.” 

“I thank you, Kathleen,” he said, simply. 

“It seems that she is to write an account 
of the funeral for some London newspaper. 
She said frankly, however, that that of itself 
did not account for her coming. It will pay 
her expenses — so she said — but the paper 
would not have sent her specially. And 
there is no doubt about it — she was really 
annoyed at being discovered. ’ ’ 

503 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The solicitors from Shrewsbury, entering 
the room now, gave at once an official air to 
everything. The elder of them, with oppres- 
sive formality, drew a formidable parchment 
from a bag held by his junior, and bowed 
elaborately to Christian. Then, as if he had 
received some mandate to do so from His 
Grace, he untied the tape, and cleared his 
throat. Those who had been seated, rose 
to their feet. 

The will came to them unaltered from 
1859 — and contained, wrapped in a surpris-. 
ing deal of pompous verbiage, a solitary 
kernel of essential fact. No legatee was 
mentioned save an impersonal being called 
the heir-at-law. The absolutism of dynastic 
rule contemplated no distribution or division 
of power. This slender, dark-eyed young 
man, standing with head inclined and a nerv- 
ous hand upon the table, had not come into 
being until long after that will was made, 
and for other long years thereafter his very 
existence had been unknown to the family at 
large. Yet, as the lawyer’s reading ended, 
there he stood before their gaze, the un- 
questioned autocrat. 

“This may be the best time to say it.” 
Christian straightened himself, and addressed 
his family for the first time, with a grave 
smile, and a voice which was behaving itself 
504 


GLORIA MUNDI 


better than he feared it would. “There are 
no minor bequests, owing to the circum- 
stances under which the will was drawn, but 
I have taken it upon myself to supply such 
omissions, in this matter, as shall commend 
themselves to my consideration. Upon this 
subject we may speak among ourselves at 
our leisure, later on.” With distinguished 
self-possession he looked at his watch. “I 
think luncheon is at two.” 

There followed here an unrehearsed, and 
seemingly unpremeditated, episode. Lord 
Julius advanced with impressive gravity 
across the little open space, and taking the 
hand which Christian impulsively extended 
to him, bent over it in a formal and courtly 
bow. When Emanuel, following his father, 
did the same, it was within the conscious- 
ness of all that they had become committed 
to a new ceremonial rite. Kathleen, coming 
behind her husband, gave her cheek to be 
kissed by the young chief of her adopted 
clan — and this action translated itself into a 
precedent as well. 

Edward and Augustine, after the hesita- 
tion of an awkward instant, came forward 
together, and in their turn, with a flushed 
stiffness of deportment, made their saluta- 
tion to the head of the house. To them, 
conjointly, Christian said something in a 
505 


GLORIA MUNDI 


whisper. He kissed Cora upon each cheek, 
with a faint smile in his eyes at her prefer- 
ence for the foreign method. His remoter 
cousins, the Earl of Chobham and Lord Ling- 
field, passed before him, and he vaguely 
noted the reservation expressed in their 
lifeless palms and frigid half-bow. They 
seemed to wish to differentiate themselves 
from the others — to express to him the Pick- 
wickian character of their homage. They 
were not Torrs ; they did not salaam to him 
as their over-lord. They had a rival dynasty 
of their own, and their appearance here 
involved nothing but the seemly courtesy of 
distant relationship. He perceived in a dim 
way that this was what their manner was 
saying to him — but it scarcely diverted his 
attention. His glance and his thoughts 
passed over their heads, to fasten upon the 
remaining figure. 

Lady Cressage, unlike the other two 
women, had retained the bonnet and heavy 
veil of mourning. The latter she held 
drawn aside with a black-gloved hand as she 
approached. It flashed suddenly across 
Christian’s brain that the year of her mourn- 
ing for her own dead was not over — yet in 
her own house she wore gay laces and light 
colors. But it was unkind to remember this 
— and senseless, too. He strove to revivify, 
506 


GLORIA MUNDI 


instead, the great compassionate impulse 
which formerly she had stirred within him. 
A pallid shadow of it was all that he could 
conjure up — and in the chill of this shadow 
he touched her white temple with his lips, 
and she moved away. There lingered in his 
mind a curious, passive conflict of memories 
as to whether their eyes had met or not. 
Then this yielded place to the impression 
some detached organ of perception had 
formed for him, that in that somber setting 
of crape her -face had looked too small for 
the rest of her figure. 

Then, as the whole subject melted from 
his mind, he turned toward the two young 
men who, upon his whispered request, had 
remained in the library after the departure 
of the others. He looked at his watch, and 
beckoned them forward with a friendly wave 
of his hand. 

“Pray come and sit down,” he said, with 
affability upon the surface of his tone. “We 
have a quarter of an hour, and I felt that it 
could not be put to better use than in reliev- 
ing your minds a little — or trying to do so. 
Let me begin by saying that I do not think 
I have met either of you before. In fact, 
now that I reflect, I am sure that we have 
not met before. I am glad to see you 
both. ’ * 


507 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The two brothers had drawn near, and 
settled uneasily into the very chairs which 
Lord Julius and Emanuel had occupied some 
hours before. Again Christian half seated 
himself upon the corner of the table, but 
this time he swung his leg lightly as he sur- 
veyed his guests. It flattered his prophetic 
judgment to note that Augustine seemed the 
first to apprehend the meaning of his words, 
but that Edward, upon pondering them, 
appeared the more impressed by their mag- 
nanimity. Between them, as they regarded 
him and each other doubtfully, the family 
likeness was more striking than ever. 
Christian remembered having heard some- 
where that their father, Lord Edward, had 
been a dark man, as a Torr should be. 
Their flaxen hair and dull blue eyes must 
come from that unmentionable mother of 
theirs, who was living in indefinite obscurity 
— if she was living at all — upon the black- 
mail Julius paid her for not using the family 
name. The thought somehow put an added 
gentleness into his voice. 

“How old are you — Eddy?’’ he asked, 
forcing himself into the use of the diminutive 
as a necessary part of the patriarchal role he 
had assumed. 

“Nme-and-twenty in October,’’ answered 
the Captain, poutingly. It seemed on the 
508 


GLORIA MUNDI 


tip of his tongue to add something else, but 
he did not. 

“There’s two years and a month between 
us,” remarked Augustine, with more buoy- 
ancy. 

“And you’ve been out of the army for five 
years, ’’ pursued Christian. “It seems that 
you became a Captain very early. Would 
there be any chance of your taking it up 
again, where you left off?’’ 

Edward shook his head. “It couldn’t be 
done twice. I got it by a lucky fluke — a 
friend of my father’s, you know. But 
they’re deuced stiff now,’’ he answered. 
“You have to do exams and things. An old 
johnnie asks you what bounds Peru on the 
northeast, and if you can’t remember just at 
the minute, why, you get chucked. Out you 
go, d’ye see?” 

“What is your idea, then? What would 
you like to do?’’ 

Captain Edward knitted his scanty, pale 
brows over this question, and regarded the 
prospect through the window in frowning 
perplexity. “Oh, almost anything,” he 
remarked at last, vacuously. 

Christian permitted himself the comment 
of a smiling sniff. ‘ ‘ Think it over, ’ ’ he said, 
and directed his glance at the younger 
brother. “You’re in Parliament,’’ he ob- 
509 


GLORIA MUNDI 


served, with a slight difference in tone. 
“I’m not sure that I quite understand. 
What is it that attracts you in a — in a Parlia- 
mentary career?” 

Augustine lifted his pale, scanty brows in 
surprise. The right kind of answer did not 
come readily to him. “Well,” he began 
with hesitation — “there was that seat in 
Cheshire where we still had a good bit of 
land — and Julius didn’t object — and I had 
an idea it would help me in the City.” He 
recovered confidence as he went on. “But 
it is pretty well played out now, I came in 
too late. The Kaffir boom spoiled the whole 
show. Five years ago an M P. could pick 
and choose; I knew fellows who were on 
twenty boards at a time, and big blocks of 
stock were flying about them like — like 
hailstones. But you can’t do that now. M. 
P.’s are as cheap as dirt; they won’t have 
’em. at any price. A fellow hardly makes 
his cab-fares in the City nowadays. And 
even if you get the very best inside tips, 
brokers have got so fearfully nasty about 
your margins being covered ’ ’ 

“Oh, well,” interposed Christian, “it isn’t 
necessary that we should go into all that. I 
do not like to hear about the City. If you 
get money for yourself there, you have taken 
it away from somebody else. I would rather 

5io 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that people of our name kept away from such 
things.” 

“If you come to that, everybody’s money 
is taken from somebody else, ’ ’ said Edward, 
unexpectedly entering the conversation. His 
brother checked him with a monitory hand 
on his arm. “No, you don’t understand,” 
Augustine warned him. “I quite see what 
the Duke means. ’ ’ 

4 4 If you see what I mean, ’ ’ returned Chris- 
tian, quietly, “perhaps you will follow the 
rest that I have to say. Do you care very 
much about remaining in Parliament?” 

Augustine’s face reflected an eager mental 
effort to get at his august interlocutor’s 
meaning. “Well — that’s so hard to say,” 
he began, anxiously. “There are points 
about it, of course — but then — when you 
look at it in another way, why of course ” 

4 4 My idea is this,” Christian interposed 
once more. 44 1 hope you won’t mind my 
saying it — but there seems to me something 
rather ridiculous about your being in the 
House. Parliament ought not to be treated 
as a joke, or a convenience. It is a place 
for men who will work hard in the service 
of the country, and who have the tastes and 
the information and the judgment and the 
patriotic devotion to make their work of 
value to their country. I dare say that there 


GLORIA MUNDI 


are members who do not entirely measure 
up to this standard, but after all there is a 
standard, and I do not like to be a party to 
lowering it. England has claims upon us 
Torrs; it deserves something better at our 
hands than that. So I think I would like 
you to consider the idea of resigning your 
seat — or at least, dropping out at the end of 
this Parliament. Or no — that would be 
waiting too long. You would better think 
of retiring now.” 

“Do you mean that I am to stand for the 
seat, instead?” asked Edward, looking up 
with awakened interest. 

Christian stared, then sighed smilingly 
and shook his head. 

“No, that doesn’t seem to have been in 
my mind,” he replied with gentleness. He 
contemplated the elder brother afresh. 

“Have you thought yet what you would 
like to do?” he asked again, almost with 
geniality. 

“How d’ye mean ‘do’?” inquired Edward, 
with a mutinous note in his voice. “Is it 
something about a business? If you ask me 
straight, I’m not so fearfully keen about 
‘doin’ ’ anything. No fellow wants to do 
things, if he can rub along without.” 

Christian found himself repressing a gay 
chuckle with effort. He had not dreamed 


512 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he should like this one of his kinsmen so 
much. 

“No — no; you shall not do things,” he 
promised him, with a sparkling eye. “That 
would be too bad. ” 

Captain Edward turned in his chair, and 
recrossed his legs. “It’s a trifle awkward, 
all this, you know,” he declared, with an 
impatient scowl. “It doesn’t suit me to be 
made game of. You’ve got the whip hand, 
and you can give me things or not, as you 
like, and I’ve got to be civil and take what 
you offer, because I can’t help myself — but 
damn me if I like to be chaffed into the 
bargain! I wouldn’t do it to you, d’ye see, 
if it was the other way about.” 

Christian’s face lapsed into instant 
gravity. A fleeting speculation as to that 
problematical reversal of positions rose in 
his mind, but he put it away. “Ah, you 
mustn’t think that,” he urged, with serious 
tones. “No, Cousin Edward, this is what I 
want to say to you.” And then, all unbid- 
den, the things he really wished to say, yet 
which he had not thought of before, ranged 
themselves in his mind. 

“Listen to me,” he went on. “You have 
been a soldier. You were a soldier when 
you were aver) 7 young man. Now, you had 
an uncle who was also a soldier when he was 


5i3 


GLORIA MUNDI 


a mere youth — a very loyal and distinguished 
soldier, too. He died a soldier when he was 
in his fortieth year — far away from his 
family, from his wife and son, and much 
farther away still from the place and country 
of his birth. Once, in his youth, he was 
mixed up in an unpleasant and even dis- 
graceful affair. How much to blame he per- 
sonally was — that I do not know. It was 
very long ago — and he was so young a man 
— really I refuse to consider the question. I 
could insist to myself that he was innocent 
— if I felt that it mattered at all, one way or 
the other — and if I did not feel that by doing 
so, somehow he would not be then so real a 
figure to me as he is now. And he is very 
real to me ; he has been so all my life. ’ ’ 

He paused, with a momentary break in his 
voice, to blink the tears from his eyes. It 
was not ducal, but he put the back of his 
hand to his cheeks, and dried them. 

“I show you how it affects me,” he con- 
tinued, simply. “No matter what he did in 
some stupid hour in London, he was a brave 
soldier before that, and after that. He 
fought for many losing causes; he died 
fighting for one which was most hopeless of 
all. I am proud that I am his son. I am 
proud for you, that you are his nephew. 
And something has occurred to me that I 


514 


GLORIA MUNDI 

think you will like to do — for me and for 
him. When I stood to-day over our vault — 
where we are all buried— it cut me to the 
heart to remember that one of us lies alone, 
a great way off— in a strange land by himself. 
I propose to you that you go to Spain for me 
— it is at Seo de Urgel, in the mountain 
country of the Catalans — and that you find 
his grave, and that you bring him back here 
to sleep with his people. He would not 
return in his lifetime — but I think he would 
be pleased with us for bringing him back 
now. ’ ’ 

Edward had looked fixedly up at his cousin, 
then glanced away, then allowed his blank 
gaze to return, the while these words were 
being spoken. It was impossible to gather 
from his reddened, immobile face, now, any 
notion of their effect upon him. But after 
a moment’s pause, he rose to his feet, 
squared his shoulders and put out his hand 
to Christian. 

“Quite right; I’ll go,’’ he said, abruptly. 

The two men shook hands, with a sense of 
magnetic communion which could have 
amazed no one more than themselves. 
Then, under a recurring consciousness of 
embarrassed constraint, they turned away 
from each other, and Edward wandered off 
awkwardly toward the door. 

5i5 


GLORIA MUNDI 


“Oh — a moment more,” called Christian, 
with a step in his cousin’s direction. Then 
on second thoughts he added: “Or shall we 
let that wait? I will see you again — some 
time to-day or to-morrow. Yes — leave me 
now for a minute with your brother. ’ ’ 

When the door had closed upon Edward, 
Christian turned slowly to Augustine, and, 
as he leaned once more against the table, 
regarded him with a ruminating scrutiny. 

“I am puzzled about you,” he remarked, 
thoughtfully. 

Augustine returned the gaze with visible 
perturbation. 

“I think,” pursued Christian, “that it 
rather annoys me that you don’t tell me to 
puzzle and be damned. ’ ’ 

The other took the words with a grimace, 
and an unhappy little laugh. He, too, rose 
to his feet. “I funked it,” he said with 
rueful candor. 

“Well, don’t funk things with me,” Chris- 
tian advised him, with a testiness of which, 
upon the instant, he was ashamed. “Look 
here,” he continued, less brusquely, “I could 
take it from your brother that he did not 
want to do things. That fits him : he is not 
the kind of man to apply himself in that 
way. But I have the feeling that you are 
different. There ought to be performance 
516 


GLORIA MUNDI 


— capacity — of some sort in you, if I could 
only get to know what it is. You are only 
my age. Isn’t there something that par- 
ticularly appeals to you?” 

Augustine balanced himself meditatively 
upon his heels. “You say you bar the City’ ’ 
— he remarked with caution. “Would you 
have any objection to Johannesburg? It’s 
not what it was, by any means, but it’s 
bound to pick up again. I might do myself 
very well there — with a proper start. ’ ’ 

“But you are thinking always of money!” 
broke in Christian, sharply once again. 
“Suppose that there was no question of 
money — suppose, what shall I say? that you 
had twelve hundred a year, secure to you 
without any effort of your own — what would 
you do then?” 

This seemed very simple to Augustine. 
“I would do whatever you wanted me to 
do,” he replied, with fervor. 

Christian shrugged his shoulders, and 
dismissed him with a gesture. “We will 
speak again about it,” he said coldly, and 
turned away. 

Descending the great staircase a few 
minutes later, Christian entered the door 
which Barlow had been waiting to open for 
him — and made his first public appearance 
as the dispenser of Caermere’s hospitality. 
517 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The guests, after the old mid-day fashion 
of the place, were already for the most part 
gathered in the large dining-hall, and stood 
or sat in groups upon the side pierced by 
the tall windows. These guests did not 
dissemble the interest with which they from 
time to time directed glances across to the 
other side, where a long table, laid for 
luncheon, put in evidence a grateful pro- 
fusion of cold joints and made-dishes. 

A pleased rustle of expectancy greeted 
Christian’s advent, but it seemed that this 
did not, for the moment at least, involve 
food and drink. He strolled over to the 
company, and, as he exchanged words here 
and there, kept an attentive eye busy in 
taking stock of its composition. There were 
some forty persons present, of whom three- 
fourths, apparently, were county people. A 
few casual presentations forced themselves 
upon him, but the names of the new 
acquaintances established no foothold in his 
memory. He smiled and murmured words 
which he hoped were seasonable — but all the 
while he was scanning the assemblage with 
a purpose of his own. 

At last he came to Kathleen, and was able 
to have a private word in her ear. “I do 
not see her anywhere,” he whispered. 

“I could not prevail upon her to come in 
518 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to lunch,” she answered; “I imagine it is 
partly a question of clothes. But she is 
being looked out for. And afterward I will 
take charge of her again, if you like — 
though ” 

The sentence remained unfinished, as she 
took the arm Christian offered her, at Bar • 
low’s eloquent approach. 


519 




CHAPTER XXV 


During the progress of the luncheon, 
Christian found no opportunity for intimate 
conversation with Emanuel’s w T ife. The 
elderly and ponderously verbose Lord Chob- 
ham sat upon her right ; there was the thin- 
faced, exigeant wife of some clerical person 
in gaiters — a rural dean, was it not? — full of 
dogmatic commonplaces, on his left. The 
other people did not seem to talk so much. 
The scene down the table — with so much 
black cloth offset garishly against the white 
linen in the daylight — presented an effect of 
funereal sobriety, curiously combined with 
a spontaneous reaction of the natural man 
against this effect. The guests ate steadily, 
and with energy ; Christian noted with 
interest how freely they also drank. For 
himself, he could not achieve an appetite, 
but thirst was in the air. He lifted his glass 
bravely to Lord Julius, whose massive bulk 
and beard confronted him at the other end 
of the table — and then to others whose 
glance from time to time caught his. 

Once he found the chance to murmur to 


52t 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Kathleen: “When this is over, I hope you 
will manage it so that I may speak with 
you.” 

She nodded slow assent, without looking 
at him. He, observing her profile, realized 
all at once that something was amiss with 
her. It came back to him now that a certain 
intensity of sadness had dwelt in the first 
glance they had exchanged that morn- 
ing, upon meeting. At the time he had 
referred it to the general aspect of woe 
which people put on at funerals. He saw 
now that it was a grief personal to herself. 
And now that he thought of it, too, there 
had been much the same stricken look upon 
Emanuel’s face. It was incredible that they 
should be thus devoured by grief at the fact 
of his grandfather’s death. No one had 
liked that old man overmuch — but surely 
they least of all. The emotion of Lord 
Julius was more intelligible — and yet even 
this had a quality of broken dejection in it 
which seemed independent of Caermere’s 
cause for mourning 

The disquieting conviction that these 
dearly beloved cousins of his — these ineffably 
tender and generous friends of his — were 
writhing under some trouble unknown to 
him, took more definite shape in his mind 
with each new glance that he stole at her. 


522 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Once the thought sprang up that they might 
be unhappy because such a huge sum of 
money had been given to him, but on the 
instant he hated himself for being capable 
of formulating such a monstrous idea. The 
wondering solicitude which all this raised 
within him possessed his thoughts for the 
rest of the meal. He was consumed with 
impatience to get away so that he might 
question Kathleen about it. 

Yet when at last he found himself beside 
her, standing before an old portrait in one of 
the chain of big rooms through which the 
liberated company had dispersed itself, this 
was just the question for which it seemed 
that no occasion would offer. 

She began speaking to him at once. “The 
young lady — Miss Bailey, I should say — has 
gone for a walk — so Falkner learns from 
some of the women. They have the impres- 
sion that she is coming back — but I don’t 
know that I feel quite so sure about it.” 

Christian’s face visibly lengthened. “It’s 
very awkward,’’ he said, with vague annoy- 
ance. “They do not arrange things in a 
very talented fashion, these people of mine.” 

“But what could they arrange?” she 
argued. An indefinable listlessness in her 
tone struck him. “It is a free country, you 
know, and this is the nineteenth century. 
523 


GLORIA MUNDI 


They cannot bodily capture a young woman 
and keep her in the Castle against her will. 
As I told you, I had difficulty in persuading 
her to come at all. ’ ’ 

“Ah, what did you say to her?’’ he asked, 
eagerly. 

“I can hardly tell you. She is not an 
ordinary person — and I know only that I 
tried not to say ordinary things to her. But 

What it was that I did say ’’ She broke 

off with an uncertain gesture, and a sigh. 

“Ah, you saw that she was not ordinary!’’ 
said Christian, admiringly. “I should love 
dearly to hear what you really 7 think of her 
— the impression that she makes upon you. ’ ’ 
Kathleen roused herself and turned to him. 
“Do you truly mean it, Christian?’’ she 
asked him, gravely. 

“Do you blame me?” he rejoined, with 
uneasy indirection. 

She pressed her lips together, and stared 
up at the picture with a troubled face. “I 
know so little of her,’’ she protested. “You 
put too big a responsibility upon me. It is 
more than I am equal to.” 

With a sudden gust of self-reproach, he 
perceived afresh the marks of suffering in 
her countenance, and recalled his anxiety. 
“Take my arm,” he said, softly, “and let us 
go on into the next room. There is a 


524 


GLORIA MUNDI 


terrace there, I think. Forgive me for 
troubling you,” he added, as they moved 
forward. ‘‘I ought to have seen that you 
are not well — that you have something on 
your mind. ” 

She did not answer him immediately. 
“It is Emanuel who is not well.” she said, 
after a pause. 

Christian uttered a formless little excla- 
mation of grieved astonishment. “Oh, it is 
nothing serious?” he whispered implor- 
ingly. 

She shook her head in a doubtful way. 
“No, I think not— that is, not irrevocably. 
But he has worked too hard. He has broken 
down under the strain. We are going away 
for a long journey — to rest, and forget about 
the System.” 

He bent his head to look into her eyes — 
trusting his glance to say the things which 
his lips shrank from uttering. A window 
stood open, and they passed out upon a broad 
stone terrace, shaded and pleasant under a 
fresh breeze full of forest odors. 

“Oh — the System” — he ventured to say, as 
they stood alone here, and she lifted her head 
to breathe in the revivifying air — “I felt 
always that it was too much for one man. 
The load was too great. It would crush the 
most powerful man on earth.” 

525 


GLORIA MUNDI 


She nodded reflective assent. “Oh, yes 
— I’m afraid I hated it,” she confessed to 
him, in a murmur full of contrition. 

“But he is going away now,” urged Chris- 
tian, hopefully. “You will have him to your- 
self — free from care, seeing strange and 
beautiful new places — as long as you like. 
Ah, then soon enough that gaiety of yours 
will return to you. Why, it is such a shock 
to me to think of you as sad, depressed — 
you who are by nature so full of joy and high 
spirits. Ah, but be sure they will all return 
to you! I make no doubt whatever of that. 
And Emanuel, too — he will get rested and 
strong, and be happy as he never was before 
— the dear fellow ! ’ ’ 

She smiled at him in wan, affectionate 
fashion. “All the courage has gone out of 
me,” she said. “Will it be coming back 
again? God knows!” 

“But surely ” Christian began, with 

hearty confidence. 

She interrupted him. “What I am fearful 
of — it is not so much his health, strictly 
speaking — but the terrible unsettling blow 
that all this means to him. It is like the 
death of a beautiful only child to the fondest 
of fathers. It tears his heart to pieces. He 
loved his work so devotedly — it was so wholly 
a part of his life — and to have to give it up ! 

526 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He says he is reconciled. Poor man, he 
tried with all his strength to make himself 
believe that he is. I catch him forcing a 
smile on his face when he sees me looking at 
him — and that is the hardest of all for me to 
bear. But I don’t know” — she drew a long 
breath, and gazed with a wistful brightening 
in her eyes at the placid hills and sky — “it 
may work itself out for the best. As you 
say — when we get away alone together, ah, 
that is where love like ours will surely tell. 
I do wrong to harbor any doubts at all. 
When two people love each other as we do — 
ah, Christian, boy, there’s nothing else in all 
the world to equal that!” 

He inclined his head gravely, to mark his 
reverential sympathy with her mood. 

“Ah, but you know nothing of it at all,” 
she went on. “You’re just a lad — and love 
is no more to be understood by instinct than 
any other great wisdom. Millions of people 
pass through life talking about love — and 
they would stare with surprise if you told 
them they never had had so much as a 
glimmer of the meaning of it. They use the 
name of love in all the matings of young 
couples — and there’s hardly once in a thou- 
sand times that it isn’t blasphemy to merttion 
it. Do you know what most marriages are? 
Life- sentences! If you have means and 


527 


GLORIA MUNDI 


intelligence, you make your prison tolerable; 
you can get used to it, and even grow 
dependent upon it — but it is a prison still. 
The best-behaved convict eyes his warder 
with a cruel thought somewhere at the back 
of his mind. Do you remember — when you 
left us the first time, I begged you to be in 
no haste to marry?” 

He bowed again. “Oh, yes, I remember 
it all,” he said, soberly. 

“I have come to feel so strongly upon 
that subject,” she explained. “It seems to 
me more important than all others combined. 
It is the last thing in the* world that should 
be decided upon an impulse, or a passing 
fancy — yet that is just what happens all 
about us. The books are greatly to blame 
for that. They talk as if only boys and girls 
knew what love meant. They flatter the 
young people, and turn their empty heads, 
with the notion that their idlest inclinations 
are very probably sacred emotions — which 
they may trust to bum brightly in a pure 
flame all their lives. The innocent simple- 
tons rush to light this penny dip that is war- 
ranted to blaze eternally, and in a week or a 
month they are in utter darkness. We 
trembled lest you, coming so suddenly into 
a new life, should meet with that mis- 
fortune.” 


528 


GLORIA MUNDI 

He smiled faintly at her. “You see, I 
have not,” he commented. 

She regarded him thoughtfully. “It is 
impossible to make rules for others in these 
matters,” she observed, “but there is this 
thing to be said. True love must be built 
upon absolutely true friendship; there can 
be no other foundation for it. You will 
often see two men who are fond of each 
other. They delight in being together. 
Very often you cannot imagine what is the 
tie between them — and they would not be 
able to tell you. They just like to be 
together — even though they may not speak 
for hours, and may be as different in temper- 
ament as chalk and cheese. That is the 
essence of friendship — and you cannot have 
love without it. The man and the woman 
must have the all-powerful sense of ideal 
companionship between them. They must 
be able to say with truth to themselves that 
the world will always be richer to them 
together than apart. There may be many 
other elements in love, but there can be 
rio love at all without this element. But 
you wonder why I am saying all this to 
you. ” 

He made a deprecatory gesture of the 
hands. “I am always charmed when you 
talk to me. I have been remembering that 


529 


GLORIA MUNDI 


dear home of yours, and how inexpressibly 
good you were to me. I prize that memory 
so fondly!” 

She smiled with an approach to her old 
gaiety of manner. “You were like a son of 
our own to us. And so we think of you 
now — as if you were ours. ” 

“And with what munificence you have 
treated me!” he exclaimed, fervently. 

“And why not? For whom else would we 
be laying up our money? Oh, there was no 
difference of opinion about that. Months 
ago it was decided that when you came into 
Caermere you should come into ever3 r thing. ” 
“I feared that Emanuel would be angry — 
disappointed — at my not taking up his work 
— but truly I could not. It wouldn’t be easy 

to explain to you — but ” 

“No — let us not go into reasons. He had 
no feeling about it whatever. How should 
he? It would have been as reasonable to be 
vexed because the lenses of his spectacles 
did not fit your eyes. And Emanuel is 
reasonableness itself. No — the experiment 
was quite personal to himself. Without 
him, it could not have gone on at all. It 
will not go on now, when he leaves it to 
others. We make some little pretense that 
it will — but we know in our hearts that it 
won’t. And there was a fatal fault in it. to 


530 


GLORIA MUNDI 


begin with, that would have killed it sooner 
or later, in any case.” 

‘‘I know what you mean,” he interposed, 
with sensitive intuition. “There was no 
proper place in it for women. ‘The very 
corner-stone of the System was the perpet- 
ual enslavement of women’ — or rather, I 
should say” — he stumbled awkwardly as the 
sweeping form of the quotation revealed 
itself to him — “I should say, it did not pro- 
vide women with the opportunities which — 
which ’ ’ 

Kathleen also had her intuitions. ‘ ‘ May I 
ask? — it sounds as if you were repeating a 
remark — was it Miss Bailey who said that 
about the corner-stone?” 

Christian bit his lip and flushed con- 
fusedly. “Yes — I think those were her 
words,” he confessed. “But you must 
remember, ’ ’ he added, eager to minimize 
the offense — “it was in the course of a long 
discussion on the whole subject, and she ” 

“The dear girl!” said Kathleen, with a 
sigh of relief. 

“Ah, but you would love her!” he cried, 
excitedly perceiving the significance of her 
words. “She has the noblest mind — calm 
and broad and serene — and so fine a nature 
— I know you would love her!” 

Kathleen put a hand on his arm, with 
531 


GLORIA MUNDI 


motherly directness. “But do you love 
her?” she asked. 

To his own considerable surprise he hesi- 
tated. “I have that feeling of deep friend- 
ship that you described,” he said, slowly. 
“The charm of being where she is is like 
nothing else to me. I cannot think that it 
would ever lose its force for me. I get the 
effect of drawing strength and breadth of 
thought and temper from her, when I am 
with her. I would rather spend my life with 
her for my companion than any other woman 
I have ever seen. That is what you mean, 
is it not?” 

“Partly,” she made enigmatic response. 
“But — now you mustn’t answer me if I 
ask what I’ve no business to ask — but the 
suspicion came to me while you were speak- 
ing — I am right, am I not, in thinking that 
you have said all this to her?” 

“Yes,” he admitted with palpable reluc- 
tance, “and she would not listen to me. 
Only a few hours before I heard the news 
of my grandfather’s death, I asked her to be 
my wife, and she refused. She seemed very ■ 
resolute. And yet she has some of that 
same feeling of friendship for me. She said 
that she had always a deep interest in me. 

She had read books — very serious books — in 
order to be able to advise me, if the chance 
532 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ever came. All that bespeaks friendship, 
surely! And her coming here, to look on 
and still not be seen — you said yourself that 
she was distressed at being discovered — is 
not that the act of warm friendship?” 

Kathleen pondered her reply. She looked 
away at the nearest hills across the river for 
some moments, with her gaze riveted 
fixedly as if in an absorption of interest. 
Without moving her head, she spoke at last: 
“You have a good deal to say about friend- 
ship. It is my fault — I introduced the word 
and insisted on it — but did you also lay such 
stress upon this ‘friendship’ to her?’’ 

“You do not know her nature,” he assured 
her. “There is nothing weak or common- 
place in it. One does not talk to her as to 
an ordinary woman — as you yourself said. 
I begged her to join her life to mine, and 
I put the plea on the highest possible 
grounds. All that I have repeated to you, 
and much more, I said to her — how great 
was my need of her, how lofty her character 
seemed to me, how all my life I should 
revere her, and gain strength and inspiration 
from being with her.” 

“H — m, ’’ said Kathleen. 

“Do you mean — ?’’he began, regardinghis 
companion wonderingly — “was that not 
enough? Remember the kind of woman 
533 


GLORIA MUNDI 


she is — proud of her independence, occupied 
with large thoughts, not to be appealed to 
by any but the highest motives — a creature 
who disdains the sentimental romances of 
inferior women — do you mean that there 
should have been something more? I do 
love her — and should I have told her so in 
so many words?” 

“I’m afraid that’s our foible,” she made 
answer. On the face that she turned to 
him, something like the old merry light 
was shining. “You goose!” she scolded at 
him, genially. 

His eyes sparkled up as with a light from 
her own. “Oh, I will make some excuse, 
and get away from these people, and find 
her,” he cried. “She will be returning, if 
not here, then to the inn, down below the 
church, don’t you think? There would be 
nothing out of the way in my riding down, 
would there? Or if I sent a man down with 
a letter, appealing to her not to go away — 
telling her why? There is no earthly reason 
why she should not stop here at the Castle. 
Her sister is here— why, of course, she 
belongs quite to the family party. How dull 
of me not to have thought of that! Of 
course, Cora can go and fetch her. ’ ’ 

“I think I would leave Cora out of it,” 
Kathleen advised him. “There is nothing 
534 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that you cannot do better yourself. Come 
here ! Do you see that patch of reddish 
stain on the hill there, above the poplars 
where the iron has colored the rock? Well, 
look to the right, on the ledge just a bit 
higher up — there is Miss Bailey. I have 
been watching her for some minutes. She 
has been round the hill ; the path she is on 
will lead her to the Mere Copse — and to the 
heath beyond the orchards.” 

His eyes had found the moving figure, 
microscopic yet unmistakable in the sunshine 
against the verdant face of the hill — and they 
dwelt upon it for a meditative moment. 

Then he turned to Kathleen, and took her 
hand, and almost wrung it in his own. “Do 
let us go in!” he urged her, with exultant 
eagerness. 


535 





CHAPTER XXVI 


Christian, professing to himself momen- 
tarily that the chance to get away from his 
guests was at hand, discovered that his 
escape, all the same, was no easy matter. 

Kathleen had disappeared somewhere, and 
without her he seemed curiously helpless. 
He did not as yet know the house well 
enough to be sure about its exits. The 
result of one furtive attempt at flight was to 
find himself in the midst of a group of 
county people, who fell back courteously at 
his approach and, as if by design, let him 
become involved in a quite meaningless con- 
versation with a purple-faced, bull-necked 
old gentleman whose name he could not 
remember. This person talked at tremen- 
dous length, producing his words in gur- 
gling spasms ; his voice was so husky and his 
manner so disconcerting — not to mention the 
peculiarities of the local dialect in which he 
spoke — that Christian could make literally 
nothing of his remarks. He maintained a 
vapid listener’s-smile, the while his eyes 
roamed despondently about the room, and 
53 7 


GLORIA MUNDI 


what he could see of the next apartment, in 
search of some relief. If he could hit upon 
Dicky Westland — or even Edward or Augus- 
tine! 

It became apparent to him, at last, that 
his interlocutor was discoursing on the sub- 
ject of dogs. Of course — it would be about 
the Caermere hounds. On the grave faces 
of those about him, who stood near enough 
to hear the sounds of this mysterious mon- 
ologue, he read signs that they considered 
themselves a party to it. It was on their 
behalf as well as his own that the old gentle- 
man was haranguing him — and he swiftly 
perceived the necessity of paying better 
attention. 

“The hounds — yes,” he said, after a little. 
“I have been making inquiries about them. 
I am advised that they cannot be kept up 
properly for less than four thousand five 
hundred a year.” 

“Up to Lord Porlock’s death, we had 
something like twenty-four hundred pounds 
from the Castle, and we made a whip-round 
among ourselves,” the other replied, “for 
the rest. With corn what it is, and rents 
what they are, we’re all so poor now that 
it’ll be harder than ever to get subscriptions, 
but we’ll try to do our share if the Castle’ll 
meet us half-way. ’ ’ 


538 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Christian felt that he liked being referred 
to as “the Castle.” Moreover, an idea sud- 
denly took shape in his mind. “My uncle, 
Lord Porlock, was the Master,” he said. 
“And before him my grandfather, I 
believe. But what has been done since Lord 
Porlock’s death — about a new Master, I 
mean?” 

Out of the complicated response made to 
this question he gathered vaguely that noth- 
ing had been done — that nothing could have 
been done. 

“My cousin, Captain Torr, is a hunting 
man, I think. ’ * He threw out the question 
with some diffidence, and was vastly re- 
lieved to see the faces brighten about him. 

“None better, by God!” affirmed the old 
gentleman, with vehemence, and there fol- 
lowed a glowing and spluttering eulogium 
of Edward’s sportsmanlike qualities and 
achievements, in the middle of which Chris- 
tian recalled that the speaker was Sir George 
Dence. 

“I like the Mastership to continue in the 
family, Sir George,” he replied, suavely 
proud of the decision he had leaped to. “I 
think I shall suggest to you that Captain 
Edward take the hounds, and that, for a 
time at least, you allow the Castle to be at 
the entire expense. At all events, you have 
539 


GLORIA MUNDI 


my annual subscription of five thousand 
pounds to begin upon.” 

He made a dignified half-bow in the 
silence which ensued, and boldly moved 
away. The murmur of amazed admiration 
which rose behind him was music in his ears. 

Visions of possible escape rose for the 
moment before him. He walked with an 
air of resolution through the next room, try- 
ing to remember whither the corridor out- 
side led — but at the doorway he stopped face 
to face with Lord Lingfield. 

“Ah,” said his cousin, amiably, “I did 
not know if I should see you again. I 
thought perhaps that you had gone to lie 
down. Funerals take it out of one so, don’t 
they? My father is quite seedy since lunch, 
and poor Lady Cressage has the most 
wretched headache! I think myself she’d 
do better not to travel while it lasts, but 
she’s anxious to get away, and so we’re all 
off by the evening train. ” 

“Oh, I didn’t dream of your hurrying off 
like this,” exclaimed Christian, sincerely 
enough. “But if you are set upon it — come, 
let’s find your father. It will seem as if I 
had neglected him.” 

“He’s in his room,” explained Lord Ling- 
field, as they moved away together, “getting 
into some heavier clothes. The evenings 
540 


GLORIA MUNDI 


are chilly here in the hills, and we’re to start 
almost immediately, and take the long drive 
round through the forest. Lady Cressage 
has talked so much of it, and we’ve never 
seen it, you know.” 

“But this is all too bad!” urged Christian. 
“You rush away before I have had time to 
have a word with any of you. There is no 
urgent reason for such haste, is there now, 
really?” 

“Lady Cressage seems anxious to go,” 
answered the other, with a kind of signifi- 
cance in his solemn voice. “And of course — 
since she came with us ” 

Christian stole a quick glance at his kins- 
man, and as swiftly looked away. “If she 
prefers it — of course, ’ ’ he commented with 
brevity. 

“Do you think she is very strong?” asked 
Lord Lingfield. “I have a kind of fear, 
sometimes, that her health is not altogether 
robust. She seemed very pale to-day.” 
There was a note of obvious solicitude in his 
voice. 

“She has a headache,” Christian reminded 
him. 

“Yes, that would account for it, wouldn’t 
it?” The young man was visibly relieved 
by this reflection. “They may say what 
they like,” he went on, “she is the most 
54i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


beautiful woman in London to-day, just as 
she was when she was married. Let me see 
— I am not sure that I ever knew her precise 
age. Do you happen to know?” 

“She 7.3 four-and-twenty. ” 

“Not more! I should have said six, or 
at least five. Hm-m! Four-and-twenty!” 
The reiteration, for some reason, seemed to 
afford him pleasure. “I am nearly thirty 
myself,” he added meditatively, “and I’m 
practically sure of being in the next Govern- 
ment. Shall you go in much for politics, do 
you think? It wouldn’t be of any great use 
to you, except the Garter, perhaps, and it’s 
so fearfully slow waiting for that. My 
father had the promise of it as long ago as 
Lord John Russell’s time, and it hasn’t 
come off yet. But then that Home Rule 
business was so unfortunate — it sent us all 
over to the Tory side, where there were 
already more people waiting for things than 
there were things to go round. If I were 
you, I would keep very quiet for a year or 
two — not committing myself openly to either 
side. I can’t help thinking there will be a 
break-up. It’s a fearful bore to have only 
twenty or thirty people on one side and five 
hundred on the other. They won’t stand it 
much longer. It doesn’t make a fair dis- 
tribution of things. Of course, I’m a 
542 


GLORIA MUND1 


Unionist, but if I were in your shoes, I’d 
think it over very carefully. The Liberals 
haven’t got a single Duke — and mind you, 
though people don’t seem to notice it, it is 
a fact that a party practically never succeeds 
itself. The Liberals are bound to come in, 
sooner or later — and then, if you were their 
only Duke, why, you’d get your Garter shot 
at you out of a gun — so to speak. Of course, 
I mustn’t be mentioned as saying this — but 
you think it over! And it needn’t matter in 
the least — our being in different parties. 
We can help each other quite as well— 
indeed, sometimes I’m tempted to think even 
better. Of course, I dare say there won’t 
be much that I can do for you — for the next 
two or three years, at least — except in the 
way of advice, and tips, and that sort of 
thing — but there may be a number of mat- 
ters that you can help me in. ’ ’ 

Christian nodded wearily — with a nervous 
thought upon the time being wasted. “I 
am not likely to forget your kindness — or our 
family ties,” he said, consciously evasive. 

“You never saw Cressage, of course; 
awful beast*” remarked the other, with an 
irrelevancy which still struck the listener as 
having a certain method in it. “It makes a 
man furious to think what she must have 
suffered with him. And a mere child, too, 


543 


GLORIA MUNDI 


when she was married. Only four-and- 
twenty now ! These early marriages are a 
great mistake. Of course, when a man gets 
to be nearly thirty, and there is a family and 
property and so on to be handed along, why, 
then marriage becomes a duty. That has 
always been my view. And I try invariably 
to do my duty, as I see it. I think a man 
ought to, you know. ’ ’ \ 

Christian sighed, and restrained an 
impulse to look at his watch. They had 
sauntered forward into the central hallway; 
through the open door could be seen a 
carriage and pair drawn up before the steps. 
A rustle on the stairs behind him caught his 
ear, and turning, Christian beheld Lady 
Cressage descending toward him, with Lord 
Chobham looming, stately and severe, in 
the shadows above her. 

Christian moved impulsively to her. “It 
was the greatest surprise to me — and dis- 
appointment, too — to hear that you were 
going like this,” he declared, with out- 
stretched hand. 

She smiled feebly, and regarded him with 
a pensive consideration. Her heavy mourn- 
ing of an earlier hour had been exchanged 
for a black garb less ostentatiously funereal, 
yet including the conventional widow’s-fall, 
which he had not seen her wear before. 
The thought that here at Caermere, last 


GLORIA MUNDI 


autumn, she had not even worn a widow ’s- 
cap, rose in his mind. It carried with it a 
sense of remissness, of contumacy as against 
the great family which had endowed her 
with one of its names. But at least now she 
exhibited a consciousness that her husband 
was less than a year dead. And her pallid 
face was very beautiful in its frame of black 
— a delicately strong face, meditative, 
reserved, holding sadness in a proud re- 
straint. “I am not very well,” she said to 
him, in tones to reach his ear alone. “The 
crowd here depressed me. I could not bring 
myself to appear at luncheon. It seems 
better that I should go away.” 

“But it is such a fatiguing journey — for 
one who does not feel wholly up to it!” he 
urged upon her. “All these strangers will 
be going — I think some of them have gone 
already. I don’t know what their rule is 
here about stopping after luncheon — but 
surely they must clear out very soon. Then 
we shall be quite by ourselves — so that if 
that is your only reason for going — why, I 
can’t admit that it is a reason at all.” 

He paused, and strove to cover with a 
halting smile his sudden perception that 
they were not talking with candor to each 
other. There were things in her mind, 
things in his mind, which bore no relation 
545 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to the words they uttered. She was looking 
at him musingly — and he felt that he could 
read in her glance, or perhaps gather from 
what there was not in her glance, that she 
would not go if he begged her with sufficient 
earnestness to remain. Nay, the conviction 
flashed vividly uppermost in his thoughts 
that even a tolerable simulation of this 
earnestness would be enough. It was as if 
a game were being played, in which he was 
not quite the master of his moves. In this 
mere instant of time, while they had stood 
facing each other, he had been able to re- 
produce the whole panorama of his contact 
with this beautiful woman. From that first 
memorable day when she had come into his 
wondering, distraught vision of the new life 
before him, to that other day but a week ago 
when he had stood trembling with passionate 
emotions in her presence, his mental pictures 
of her rose connectedly about him. They 
exerted a pressure upon his will. They left 
him no free agency in the matter. By all 
the chivalric, tenderly compassionate mem- 
ories they evoked, he must bid her to remain. 

“I am very sorry that you feel you must 
go,” was what he heard himself say instead. 

“Good-bye,” she answered simply, and 
gave him her gloved hand with an impas- 
sive face. “Lord Chobham and Lord Ling- 
546 


GLORIA MUNDI 


field are good enough to see me back to 
London again. We are driving round 
through the forest. Our people are to join 
us at the station with the luggage. Good- 
bye. ” 

He accompanied the party out to the 
carriage door, despite some formal doubts 
about its being the proper thing to do. 
Both father and son made remarks to him, 
to which he seemed to himself to be making 
suitable answers, but what they were about 
he never knew. The tragedy of Edith’s final 
departure from Caermere — she who had 
been the hostess here when he came; she 
who was to have worn the coronet on her 
lovely brow as the mistress of it all — seized 
upon his mind and harrowed it. A vehe- 
ment self-reproach that his thoughts should 
have done her even momentary injustice 
stung him, as he beheld her seated in the 
carriage. She smiled at him. — that wistful, 
subdued smile of the headache — and then, 
as the horses moved, his eyes were resting 
upon another smile instead — the beaming of 
fatuous content upon the countenance of 
Lord Lingfield, who sat facing her. 

Christian, regarding this second cousin of 
his as the carriage receded from view, sud- 
denly breathed a long sigh of relief. 

All at once remembering many things, he 


547 


GLORIA MUNDI 


wheeled with the impulse to run up the 
steps. Upon reflection, he ascended them 
sedately instead, and gave orders in the hall 
that Mr. Westland should be sent to him forth- 
with. Two or more groups of departing 
guests came upon him, while he stood 
irresolutely here, and he bade them farewell 
with formal gravity. The two parsons 
whom he had seen at the church were 
among them — attired now in black garments 
with curiously ugly little round, flat hats — 
and he noted with interest that their smirk- 
ing deference now displeased him less than 
it had done in the morning. He perceived 
that his lungs were becoming accustomed to 
the atmosphere of adulation, and smiled 
tolerantly at himself. How long would it 
be, he wondered with idle amusement, 
before it would stifle him to breathe any 
other air? 

Augustine had sauntered out from some 
unknown quarter into the hall, and Christian 
beckoned to him. A shapeless kind of sus- 
picion, born of a resemblance now for the 
first time suggesting itself, had risen in his 
brain. He took the young man by the arm, 
and strolled aside with him. 

“Am I wrong,” he asked carelessly, “or 
did I see you at the supper at the Hanover 
Theater? Let us see — it would be a week 
548 


GLORIA MUNDI 


ago to-night? I thought so. Why I asked 
— I was curious to know whom you were 
with. It was a young man; you were stand- 
ing together between some scenery as I 
passed you.” 

“Oh!” said Augustine, with visible reas- 
surance. “That was Tom Bailey — Cora’s 
brother, you know.” 

“What sort is he?” Christian pursued, 
secretly astonished at the inspired accuracy 
of his intuition. 

“Well” — replied the other, hesitatingly — 
“it’s rather hard to say. He got sent down 
from Cambridge for something or other, and 
his governor got the needle over it, and put 
him on an allowance of a pound a week, or 
something like that, and so what could he 
do? It’s jolly hard on a young fellow round 
town to have less money than anybody else. 
He’s bound to get talked about, if he only 
owes half-a-crown to some outsider or other, 
and that makes other fellows turn shirty. 
But I think he always pays when he can.” 

“You like him, then, do you?” 

“Oh, yes — I like Tom well enough,” 
answered Aiigustine, dubiously pondering 
the significance of the interrogatory. “He’d 
be all right if — if he had a proper chance.” 
With a sigh, he ventured to add: “He’s 
like the rest of us — that way.” 


549 


GLORIA MUNDI 


At sight of Dicky Westland’s approach, 
Christian dropped his inquiries abruptly. 
“All right,’’ he said, with enigmatic 
brevity, and turned to his secretary with a 
meaning gesture. “I want to get away 
from here — out of the Castle,’’ he murmured 
to the newcomer, “without a minute’s delay. 
I have a — kind of appointment, and I am 
already late. If you will get our hats, we 
will walk out together, as if we were discuss- 
ing some private matter, and then no one 
will interrupt us. ’ ’ 

This confidence was only partially justified 
by events. The two made their way 
unmolested into the open air, and across 
some long stretches of lawn to the beginning 
of the series of gardens. It was within 
Christian’s memory that one reached the 
orchards and the opening upon the heath by 
traversing these gardens. But in the second 
of them, where remarkable masses of tulips 
in gorgeous effulgence of bloom occupied the 
very beds in which he believed the dahlias 
must have been last year, there was some 
one on the well-remembered path in front of 
him. 

A little child of two or three years, still 
walking insecurely at least, was being led 
along the edge of the flower-border by a 
woman in black whose back was turned. 


550 


GLORIA MUNDI 


The infant had caught the notion of bending 
over the hyacinths, one by one, laboriously to 
smell their perfume, and the woman indul- 
gently lent herself to the pastime, halting 
and supporting the little one by the hand. 

Christian wondered vaguely what child 
this could be, before observation told him 
that the person they were approaching was 
a lady. He took Dicky’s arm then, and 
quickened their step. “We will be very 
much engaged as we pass, ’ ’ he admonished 
him. After a few paces, however, the futility 
of this device made itself apparent. The 
lady, glancing indifferently over her shoulder 
at the sound of their tread, turned on the 
instant with a little cry of pleasure. 

It was Cora who came toward them, now 
radiant of face and with an extended hand. 
She dragged the surprised child heedlessly 
along at her side with the other arm. 

“Oh, Duke!’’ she cried. “I did so long 
to burst in upon you, wherever you were to 
be found, and thank you when I heard. It 
was Sir George Dence who told us. And 
Eddy, he’s quite off his head with joy! He 
wanted to look you up, too, but I told him 
to put off thanking you till to-morrow; 
between ourselves, I don’t fancy he’ll be seen 
quite to the best advantage later on to-day. 
But I know you’ll think none the worse of 


55i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


him for that ; and there’s a good bit to be done, 
he says, in the way of pulling the Hunt 
together again to work like one man. He’s 
begun already promoting the right sort of 
feeling. He’s got Sir George and old Gen- 
eral Fawcett and about a dozen more of ’em 
in the billiard-room, and I told him every- 
thing would be all right so long as they 
didn’t sing. On account of the funeral, you 
know. And — why, you’ve never seen my 
oldest unmarried daughter! Look up and 
say, ‘How-de-do?’ Chrissy. Why, she’s your 
namesake! Yes, her baptismal name is 
Christiana or Christina — which is it? We 
always call her Chrissy. And you haven’t 
told me what an effective family group I 
make. You never would have believed that 
I could be so domestic, now, would you?” 

She had gathered the child up into her 
arms, and under the influence of her jocund 
mood Christian smiled cheerfully. “You are 
very wonderful as a mother,” he assured 
her, and extended a tentative finger toward 
Chrissy, who, huddled in awkward and 
twisted discomfort under her mother’s 
elbow, regarded him with unconcealed 
repulsion. 

“She seems an extremely healthy child,’ 
he remarked, and the words were not so per- 
functory as they sounded. The robust, red- 
552 


GLORIA MUNDI 


cheeked heartiness of Chrissy raised musing 
reflections in his mind. If this infant, with 
its stout mottled arms and legs, had been a 
boy, it would be at this moment his heir. 
No one could ask for a finer child — and she 
was very closely akin to him. And Cora 
was her mother — and Cora’s sister! 

“Oh, but where are we going to live?” she 
broke in upon his meditations. “I said to 
Eddy that I’d lay odds you were thinking of 
David’s Court for us. You know the kennels 
used to be there before Porlock’s time.” 

“All that we can arrange,’’ said Christian, 
shaking off his reverie, and lifting his hat. 
“Rest easy in your mind about everything.” 

She nodded with an expansive geniality 
which freely included Dicky as well, and 
then walked away. It slowly occurred to 
Christian that she had said nothing about 
her sister’s presence in the neighborhood, 
although it was impossible to suppose her 
ignorant of it. Upon consideration, he 
decided that her reticence was delicate. He 
felt that he liked Cora, and then uneasily 
speculated upon the seeming probability that 
his liking for her was in excess of her 
sister’s. 

“Westland,” he said, with a new thought 
in his busy brain, “you know about geog- 
raphy — about where the different British 
55 7 


GLORIA MUNDI 


colonies are on the map, and what they are 
distinguished for. I want to know of a good 
place, a very long way off, where two young 
men with a moderate capital might do well, 
or at least have the chance to do well. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Fellows like that generally go to South 
Africa, nowadays,” replied Dicky, ‘‘though 
I believe it’s gone off a bit. It’s not as far 
away as Australia, but it’s livelier, appar- 
ently. They don’t seem to come back as 
much. ’ ’ 

‘‘No; I have a prejudice against that 
Johannesburg. It is not a good atmosphere, 
and it is too easy to get into trouble there.” 

‘‘There are great reports about British 
Columbia just now. They’ve found wonder- 
ful new gold-fields, and they’re a fearful 
distance from anywhere. It takes you 
months to get to them, so I’m told. But it 
depends so much on what the fellows them- 
selves are like. If I may ask, do I know 
them?” 

‘‘It is Augustine Torr that I have in mind, 
and a young friend of his — Bailey his name 
is. By the way, a brother of the lady we 
just left.” 

‘‘I knowtf/him,” commented Dicky sen- 
tentiously. 

‘‘Well, it has occurred to me that these 
young men, for whom there seems no 
554 


GLORIA MUNDI 


specially suitable foothold in England, might 
accomplish something in the colonies. That 
is the way Greater Britain, as they call it, 
has been made — by young men who might 
have done nothing at all worth doing at 
home. Life is really very difficult and com- 
plicated in this crowded island, unless one 
has exactly the temperament .to succeed. 
But in the colonies it is different. Men 
who are of no use here may become valuable 
there. I have heard that there are many 
instances of this. And these young men, it 
seems to me that very possibly, if they found 
themselves on new ground, they might do as 
others have done and get on. We do not 
quite know what to do with them here, but 
we send them out, and they make the 
Empire.” 

“It’s rather rough on the Empire, though, 
isn’t it?” said Dicky. 

Christian frowned and drew himself up a 
little. “One is my cousin,” he said coldly, 
“and the other is the brother of — is the 
brother of my cousin’s wife.” 

There was a moment of silence, and then 
the secretary, as upon a sudden resolution, 
stopped. “It’s no good my going on,” he 
said, nervously, but with decision. “I 
daresay you don’t mean it, but all the same 
it’s too much for me. If you don’t mind, I 


555 


GLORIA MUNDI 

think I’ll turn it up and catch the evening 
train. I don’t mind going to the station in 
the brake with the servants and the luggage. 
It certainly won’t take anybody by surprise. ’ ’ 
Christian regarded him with open-eyed 
astonishment. “I don’t know what you’re 
talking about,” he said, in obvious candor. 

Dicky restlessly threw out his hands. 
“Oh, I can’t stand this Dukeness of yours,” 
he declared. “You put it on too thick. I 
know Gus Torr, and I know as much as I 
want to of Tom Bailey, and I know they’re 
no good, and you know it, too — although I 
don’t say they mayn’t get on in the colonies. 
God knows what won’t get on there! But 
when I make some perfectly civil and natural 
remark on the subject, you flame up at me, 
and blow yourself out like a pouter pigeon, 
and say they’re — haw-haw! — relations of 
yours. Well, that be damned, you know! 
It may do once in a way with outsiders, but 
it isn’t good enough to live with.” 

“Dicky!” said Christian, in a voice of 
awed appeal. His brown face distorted 
itself in lines of painful bewilderment as he 
gazed at his companion. “Have I done 
that? Is it as bad as that?” He gasped 
the questions out in a frightened way and 
tears sprang into his eyes. “Then it is not 
you who should catch the evening train, but 
556 


GLORIA MUNDI 

me. I am not fit to be here!” He finished 
with a groan of bitter dejection and bowed 
his head. 

Westland, as much scared as surprised at 
the violent result of his protest, moved 
impetuously to his friend and put a hand on 
his shoulder. “No-no! No-no, ” he said, in 
a soothing voice. “ It’s all right ! I said you 
didn’t mean it, you know. Truly, old man, 
I knew you didn’t mean it! Upon my word, 
it’s all right!” 

Christian lifted his head, and tried to choke 
down his agitation. “But you go away 
from me!” he said in despairing tones. “It 
is the same as ever! Nothing is changed for 
me ! I do not make friends — much less keep 
them ! ’ ’ 

“But I am your friend! You are keeping 
me!” Dicky insisted, raising his voice. An 
odd impulse to laugh aloud struggled con- 
fusedly with the concern the other’s visible 
suffering gave him. “I take it all back. 
I’m stopping with you, right enough!” 

Christian accepted the assurance in a dazed 
way, and after he had silently shaken the 
other’s hand, began walking on again, 
studying the ground with a troubled frown. 
“I am a weak and dull fool!” he growled at 
last, in rage at himself. ‘ ‘ I have not sense 
enough to behave properly! It is a mistake 
557 


GLORIA MUNDI 


that I should be put over anybody else! I 
make myself ridiculous, like any parvenu. * ’ 
“No — that’s all rot,” the' other felt it 
judicious to urge. “You’re perfectly all 

right, only — only ’’ 

“Only I’m not!’’ Christian filled in the gap 
of hesitation with an angry laugh. 

Gradually a calmer view of himself per- 
vaded his mind. “It is more difficult than 
you think, Dicky,” he affirmed, after a pause. 
“It is not easy at all — at first — to — what 
shall I say? — to keep feeling your feet under 
you on the solid ground. The temptation to 
soar, to think you are lifted up, is upon you 
every minute. It catches you unawares. 
Ah ! I see one must watch that without ceas- 
ing. Oh, I am glad — more glad than I can 
tell you — that you stopped me. Ah! that 
was a true friend’s service.’’ 

Dicky chuckled softly: “It’s much nicer, 
if you can take it that way,’’ he admitted. 

“If I am ever anything but nice to you,” 
Christian began, gravely, and then stopped 
as if he had bitten his tongue. “Oh, there is 
patronage again!’’ he cried with vexation — 
and then let himself be persuaded to join in 
the frank laughter that the other set up. 

“Oh, we shall hit it off all right,’’ Dicky 
assured him as a final word on the subject. 
“It’s merely a question of time. You’ve got 

558 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to get accustomed to yotir new job, and I to 
mine: that’s all there is of it. We shall 
learn the whole bag of tricks in a week or 
so, and be happy ever afterward.” 

The joking refrain struck some welcome 
chord in Christian’s thoughts. He looked 
up, and noted that they were very near the 
door leading out from the fruit-garden to the 
heath beyond the wall. Halting, he smiled 
into his companion’s face. 

‘‘No one will follow me now,” he said with 
sparkling eyes. ‘‘I will let you turn back 
here, if you don’t mind.” 


559 



CHAPTER XXVII 


Christian realized blankly, all at once, as 
he stood and gazed out over the moor, that 
he did not know his way. 

The spring had laid upon this great roll- 
ing common a beauty of its own. Every- 
where, on thorns and furze and briars, the 
touch of the new life had hung emeralds to 
bedeck and hide the dun waste of winter. 
The ashen-gray carpets of old mosses were 
veined with the vivid green of young 
growths; out from the dry brown litter of 
lifeless ferns and bracken were rising the 
malachite croziers of fresh fronds. The 
brilliant yellow of broom and gorse blooms 
caught the eye in all directions, blazing 
above the vernal outburst of another year’s 
vegetation, and the hum of the bees in the 
sunlight, and the delicately mingled odors 
in the May air were a delight to the senses. 
But under this exuberance of re-awakened 
nature, welcome though it might be, some- 
how the landmarks of last autumn seemed 
to have disappeared. 

The path which had led along the wall, 
561 


GLORIA MUNDI 


for example, was now nowhere discernible. 
Or had there really been a path at any time? 

It was clear enough, at all events, that his 
course for some distance lay beside this 
massive line of ancient masonry, even if no 
track was marked for him. At some farther 
point it would be necessary to turn off at a 
right angle toward the Mere Copse — and 
here he could recall distinctly that there had 
been a path. But then he came upon 
several paths, or vaguely defined grassy 
depressions which might be paths, and the 
divergent ways of these were a trouble to 
him. At last, he decided to strike out more 
boldly into the heath, independently of 
paths, and try to get a general view of the 
landscape. He made his way through 
creepers and prickly little bushes toward an 
elevation in the distance, realizing more and 
more in his encumbered progress that his 
quest was like that of one who should search 
the limitless sea for a small boat. There 
seemed no boundaries whatever to this vast 
tract of waste land. 

As he began at length the ascent of the 
mound toward which his course had been 
directed, he scanned the moor near and far, 
but no human figure was visible. No signs 
could he discover of any beaten track across 
it; of the several patches of woodland 
562 


GLORIA MUNDI 


beyond, in the distance to the left, he could 
not even be sure which was the Mere Copse. 
Below, on the edge of the sky-line at the 
right, he could see the tops of the towers and 
chimneys of Caermere. Wheeling round 
from this point, then, he endeavored to 
identify that portion of the hill, on the 
opposite side of the river-chasm, which 
Kathleen had pointed out to him from the 
terrace. But, viewed from here, there were 
so many hills! The hopelessness of his 
errand became more apparent with each 
glance round. Despondently, he sauntered 
up the few remaining yards to the top. 

He stood upon the ridge of a grass-grown 
wall of stones and earth, which in a some- 
what irregular circle enclosed perhaps a 
quarter-acre of land. This wall on its best 
preserved side, where he found himself, was 
some dozen feet in height. Across the ring 
it seemed lower, and at three or four points 
was broken down altogether. He realized 
that he was surveying a very ancient struc- 
ture — no doubt, prehistoric. Would it have 
been a fortress or a temple, or the primitive 
mausoleum of some chieftain-ruler in these 
wilds? One of the openings seemed to sug- 
gest by its symmetry an entrance to the 
enclosure. It was all very curious, and he 
promised himself that very soon he would 
563 


GLORIA MUNDI 


examine it in detail. Some vague promptings 
of a nascent archaeological spirit impelled 
him now, upon second thoughts, to walk round 
on the crest of the wall to the other side. 

Suddenly he stopped, stared sharply down- 
ward with arrested breath, and then, while 
his face wreathed itself with amused smiles, 
tip-toed along a few paces farther. Halting 
here, his eyes dancing with suppressed 
gaiety, he regarded at his leisure the object 
of his expedition. 

Upon the sunny outer side of the sloping 
embankment, only a few feet below, was 
seated Frances Bailey. Her face was turned 
from him, and she was apparently engrossed 
in the study of a linen-backed sectional map 
spread on her knees. A small red book lay 
in the grass at her side, and he was so close 
that he could decipher the legend “Shrop- 
shire and Cheshire” on its cover. 

After a minute’s rapturous reflection he 
turned and noiselessly retraced his steps, till 
he could descend from the wall without being 
seen. There was a kind of miniature dry 
moat surrounding it at this point, and this 
he lightly vaulted. Then, straightening 
himself, he strolled forward with as fine an 
assumption of unsuspecting innocence as he 
could contrive. It occurred to him to 
whistle some negligent tune very softly as 
564 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he came, but, oddly enough, his lips seemed 
recalcitrant — they made no sound. 

At the obtrusion of his shadow upon the 
map she was examining she looked swiftly 
up. For a moment, with the afternoon sun 
in her eyes, she seemed not to recognize him. 
There followed another pause, infinitesimal 
in duration, yet crowded with significance, 
in which she appeared clearly at a loss what 
to say or do, now that she realized the fact 
of his presence. Then she smiled at him 
with a kind of superficial brightness and 
tossed the map aside. 

“I am fortunate indeed to find you,'* he 
said, as he came up, and they shook hands 
formally. A few moments before, when he 
had looked down upon her from the mound, 
he had been buoyantly conscious of his con- 
trol of the situation; but now that he stood 
before her it was she who looked down upon 
him from her vantage-ground on the side of 
the bank, and somehow this seemed to make 
a great deal of difference. The sound of his 
voice in his own ears was unexpectedly 
solemn and constrained. He felt his deport- 
ment to be unpleasantly awkward. 

She ignored the implication that he had 
been looking for her. “I suppose this must 
be the place that is marked ‘tumulus’ on the 
map here,” she observed, with what seemed 
5^5 


GLORIA MUNDI 


to be a deliberately casual tone. “But I 
should think it is more like a rath, such as 
one reads about in Ireland — a fortified place 
to defend one’s herds and people in. As I 
understand it, a tumulus was for purposes of 
burial, and this seems to be a fort rather 
than a tomb. What is your idea about it?” 

She rose to her feet as she put the ques- 
tion, and turned to regard the earthworks 
above and about her with a concentrated 
interest. 

He tried to laugh. “I’m afraid I’m more 
ignorant about them than anybody else,” he 
confessed. “I have never been here before. 
I suppose all one can really say is that the 
people who did these things knew what they 
were for, but that since they had no alphabet 
they could not leave a record to explain 
them to us, and so we are free to make each 
his own theory to suit himself. ’ ’ 

“That is a very indolent view to take,” 
she told him over her shoulder. “Scientists 
and archaeologists are not contented with 
that sort of reply. They examine and com- 
pare and draw deductions, and get at the 
meaning of these ancient remains. They 
do not sit down and fold their hands and 
say, ‘Unfortunately those people had no 
alphabet. ’ Why don’t you dig this thing up 
and find out about it?” 

566 


GLORIA MUNDI 


He smiled to himself doubtfully. “I have 
only been in possession of it for about three 
hours, ’ ’ he reminded her. Then an inspira- 
tion came to him. “ Would you like to dig it 
up?” he asked, with an effect of eagerness 
shining through the banter of his tone. ‘ ‘ I 
mean, to superintend the excavations. You 
shall have forty men out here with picks and 
shovels to-morrow if you say the word. ” 

Instead of answering, she stooped to get 
her book and map, and then moved with a 
preoccupied air to the top of the bank. 
After an instant’s hesitation he scrambled up 
to join her. 

‘‘I suppose that would have been the 
entrance there,” she observed, pointing 
across the circle. “And in the center, you 
see, where the grass is so thin, there are 
evidently big stones there. That does sug- 
gest interment after all, doesn’t it? Yet the 
Silurians are said to have buried only in 
dolmens. It is very curious.” 

“I do not find that I care much about 
Silurians this afternoon,” he ventured to 
say. There was a gentle hint of reproach in 
his voice. 

“Why, you’re one yourself! That is the 
principal point about the Torrs ; that is what 
makes them interesting.” 

“But what good does it do me to be a 
567 


GLORIA MUNDI 


Silurian and interesting, ’ ’ he protested with 
a whimsical gesture, “if I— if I do not get 
what I want most of all in the world?” 

“It seems to me that you have got more 
things already than most people on this 
planet.” She went on reflectively: “I had 
no idea at all what it meant till I saw these 
hills and the valleys below them, and the 
forests and the villages and the -castle, and 
the people coming out from heaven knows 
what holes in the rocks — all with your collar 
round their necks. I should think it would 
either send you mad with the sense of power 
or frighten you to death. ’ * 

“I am really very humble about it, I 
think,” he assured her simply. “And there 
is not so much power as you seem to imagine. 
It is all a great organized machine, like some 
big business. The differences are that it 
works very clumsily and badly as it is at 
present managed, and that it hardly pays any 
dividend at all. The average large whole- 
sale grocer’s or wine merchant’s estate would 
pay a bigger succession duty than my grand- 
father’s. He died actually a poor man.” 

The intelligence did not visibly impress 
her. “But it was not because he helped 
others,” she remarked. “Those about him 
grew poorer also. It is a hateful system!” 
“There is something you do not know,” 
568 


GLORIA MUNDI 


he began with gravity. “I said that my 
grandfather died a poor man. But since his 
death a tremendous thing has happened. A 
great gift has been made to me. The enor- 
mous debts which encumbered his estates 
have been wiped out of existence. It is 
Lord Julius and Emanuel who have done 
this — done it for me! I do not know the 
figures yet — to-morrow Mr. Soman is to 
explain them to me — but the fact is I am a 
very rich man indeed. I do not owe any- 
body a penny. Whatever seems to be mine, 
is mine. There are between seventy-five 
and eighty thousand acres. By comparison 
with other estates, it seems to me that there 
will be a yearly income of more than fifty 
thousand pounds!” 

She drew a long breath and looked him in 
the face. “I am very sorry for you,” she 
said soberly. 

‘ ‘ Ah, no ; I resist you there, ’ ’ he exclaimed. 
“I quote your own words to you: ‘It is an 
indolent view to take.’ There is a prodi- 
gious responsibility ! Yes! But all the more 
reason why I should be brave. Would you 
have me lose my nerve, and say the task is 
too great for me? I thought you did not 
like people who solved difficulties by turning 
tail and running away. Well, to confess 
oneself afraid — that is the same thing.” 

569 


GLORIA MUNDI 


She smiled thoughtfully, perhaps at the 
quaint recurrence to foreign gestures and an 
uncertain, hurried use of book-English 
which her company seemed always to 
provoke in him. “I meant only that it was 
a terrible burden you had had fastened 
upon your shoulders,” she made answer 
softly. “I did not suggest that you were 
afraid of it. And yet I should think you 
would be!” 

‘‘I think, ” he responded, with a kind of 
diffident conviction, ‘‘I think that if a man is 
honest and ambitious for good things, and 
has some brains, he can grow to be equal to 
any task that will be laid upon him. And if 
he labors at it with sincerity and does abso- 
lutely the best that there is in him to do, 
then I do not think that his work will be 
wasted. A man is only a man after all. He 
did not make this world, and he cannot do 
with it what he likes. It is a bigger thing, 
when you come to think of it, than he is. 
At the end there is only a little hole in it for 
him to be buried in and forgotten, as these 
people who raised this wall that we stand on 
are forgotten. They thought in their day that 
the whole world depended upon them ; when 
there was thunder and lightning, they said 
it was on their account, because their gods 
in the sky were angry with them. But to us 


570 


GLORIA MUNDI 


it is evident that they were not so important 
as they supposed they were. We look at the 
work of their hands here, and we regard it 
with curiosity, as we might an ant’s nest. 
We do not know whether they made it as a 
tomb for their chief or as a shelter for their 
cows. And if they had left records to 
explain that, and it does not matter how 
much else, it would be the same. We learn 
only one thing from all the numberless mil- 
lions who have gone before us — that man is 
less important than he thinks he is. I have 
a high position thrust upon me. Eh bien! 
I am not going to command the sun to stand 
still. I am not going to believe that I ought 
to revolutionize human society before I die. 
There will be many men after me. If one 
or two of them says of me that I worked 
hard to do well, and that I left things a 
trifle better than I found them, then what 
more can I desire?” 

She nodded ' in musing abstraction, but 
answered nothing. Her gaze was fastened 
resolutely upon the opposite bank. 

“I am truly so fortunate not to have 
missed you!” he repeated after a small 
interval of silence. 

“Why should you say that?” she asked 
almost with petulance. “You make too 
much of me ! I do not belong in this gallery 


57i 


GLORIA MUNDI 


at all. I am very angry with myself for 
being here. I ought not to have allowed 
Mrs. Emanuel to persuade me against my 
own judgment. It did not enter into my 
head that I should be seen by anybody. I 
was on my vacation — I take it early, because 
some of the girls like to get away at Whit- 
suntide — and at Bath I saw in a paper some 
reference to the state with which your grand- 
father would be buried, and the whim seized 
me to see the funeral. I came on my 
bicycle most of the way, till the hills got too 
bad. I thought no one would be the wiser 
for my coming and going. And one thing 
— you must not ask me to come into the 
castle again. I am going to the inn to get 
my machine, and go down to Craven Arms 
or Clun for the night. I have looked both 
roads out on my map. Is Clun interesting, 
do you know?” 

‘‘I have not the remotest idea. In fact, 
there is only one idea of any sort in my mind 
just now. It is that you are not to be 
allowed to go away. Have you seen the 
dungeons in which we fasten up people 
whose presence is particularly desired, and 
who will not listen to reason?” 

The jesting tone of his words was belied 
by the glance in his eyes. She frowned a 
little. “No, there is no reason in it at alL 


572 


GLORIA MUNDI 


What have I to do with these people? They 
are not my kind. It is the merest accident 
that yon and I happen to be acquainted. If 
you did not know me now, nothing is more 
certain than that we should never meet in 
the world. And our seeming to each other 
like friends on those other occasions — that 
had nothing to do with the present. The 
circumstances are entirely different. There 
is nothing in common between us now, or 
hardly anything at all. You ought to under- 
stand that. And I look to you to realize 
how matters are altered, and not to insist 
upon placing me in a very undignified and 
unpleasant position.” She had spoken with 
increasing rapidity of utterance, and with 
rising agitation. “Not that your insisting 
would make any difference ! ” she added now, 
almost defiantly. 

He looked at her in silence. The face 
half turned from him, with its broad brow, 
its shapely and competent profile, the com- 
manding light in its gray eyes, the firm lips 
drawn into tightened curves of proud resist- 
ance to any weakness of quivering — it was 
the face that had made so profound an 
impression upon him at the outset of that 
wonderful journey from Rouen. The 
memory became on the instant inexpressibly 
touching to him. She was almost as she had 
573 


GLORIA MUNDI 


been then — it might well be the same sober 
gray frock, the same hat, save that the 
ribbon now was black instead of fawn. She 
would have no varied wardrobe, this girl 
who earned her own bread, and gave her 
mind to the large realities of life. But this 
very simplicity of setting, how notably it 
emphasized the precious quality of what it 
framed! He recalled that in his first rapt 
study of this face it had seemed to him like the 
face of the young Piedmontese bishop who 
had once come to his school — pure, wise, 
sweet, tender, strong. And now, beholding 
it afresh, it was beyond all these things the 
face which woke music in his heart — the face 
of the woman he loved. 

With gentle slowness he answered her: 
“The position I seek to place you in does not 
seem to me undignified. I should like to 
hope that you would not find it unpleasant. 
You know what I mean — I offered it to you 
in advance, before it was yet mine to give. 
I beg you again to accept it, now when it is 
mine to give. If you will turn, you can see 
Caermere from where you stand. It has had 
in all its days no mistress like you. Will 
you take it from my hands?” 

She confronted him with a clear, steady 
gaze of disapproval. “All this is very 
stupid!” she said, peremptorily. “Last 
574 


GLORIA MUNDI 


week — it had its pretty and graceful side 
then perhaps, but it is not nice at all now. 
It does not flatter me ; it does not please me 
in any way to-day. I told you then, I had 
my own independence, my own personal 
pride and dignity, which are dearer to me 
than anything else. If I had them then, I 
have them very much more .now. What 
kind of idea of me is this that you have — 
that I am to change my mind because now 
you can talk of fifty thousand a year? I like 
you less than I did when you had nothing at 
all ! For then we seemed to understand each 
other better. You would not have rattled 
your money-box at me then! You had finer 
sensibilities — I liked you more!” 

He returned her gaze with a perplexed 
smile. “But I am asking you to be my 
wife,” he pointed out. 

She sniffed with a suggestion of contempt 
at the word. “Wife!” she told him stormily. 
“You do not seem to know what the word 
‘wife’ means! You are not thinking of a 
‘wife’ at all. It is a woman to play Duch- 
ess to your Duke that you have in mind, 
and you feel merely that she ought to be 
presentable and intelligent, and personally 
not distasteful to you; we’ll even say that 
you prefer a woman towards whom you have 
felt a sort of comrade’s impulse. But that 


575 


GLORIA MUNDI 


has nothing to do with a ‘wife.’ And even 
on your own ground how foolish you are ! In 
heaven’s name, why hit on me of all women? 
There are ten thousand who would do it all 
vastly better, and who, moreover, would 
leap at the chance. You have only to look 
about you. England is full of beauties in 
training for just such a place. They know 
the ways of your set — the small talk, the 
little jokes, the amusements and social duties 
and distinctions, and all that. Go and find 
what you want among them. What have I 
to do with such people? They’re not in my 
class at all. ’ ’ 

Christian sighed, and then sought her 
glance again with a timid, whimsical smile. 
“Ah, how you badger me always!” he said. 
“But I have still something more to say.” 

“Let me beg that it be left unsaid!” She 
folded up the map, and began moving along 
the ridge as she spoke. “It is all as dis- 
tressful to me as can be. You cannot under- 
stand — or will not understand — and it puts 
me in an utterly hateful position. I do not 
like to be saying unpleasant things to you. 
I had only the nicest feelings towards you 
when we last parted ; and this noon, when I 
saw you in the church, you made a picture 
in my mind that I had quite — quite a tender- 
ness for. But now you force me into dis- 

576 


GLORIA MUNDI 


agreeable feelings and words, which I don’t 
like any more than you do. I seem to be 
never myself when I am with you. I have 
actually never seen you but three times, and 
you disturb me more — you make me hate 
myself more — than everything else in the 
world.” 

The exigencies of the path along the sum- 
mit of the mound forced Christian to walk 
behind her. In the voice which carried 
these words backward to him the quavering 
stress of profound emotion was more to him 
than the words themselves. He put out his 
hand and laid it lightly upon her arm. 

“It is because you feel in your heart of 
hearts that I love you,” he said in a low, 
tremulous voice. “Can you not see? It is 
that that has made all our meetings dis- 
turbed, full of misunderstandings as well as 
pleasure. You wrong me, dear — or no, yoti 
could not do that, but it is that you do not 
comprehend. I have loved you from that 
first day. Oh, I have loved you always, 
since I can remember — long years before I 
saw you. There is not any memory in my 
life, it seems, but of you — for all the sweet 
things were a foretaste of you, and all the 
bitter are forgotten because of you. And 
shall there not be an end now to our hurting 
each other? For where you go I follow you, 


577 


GLORIA MUNDI 


and I must always be longing for you — and 
I do not believe that in your heart you hold 
yourself away from me, but only in your 
mind.” 

She had drawn her sleeve from his touch, 
and irresolutely quickened her steps. She 
perforce paused now at a broken gap in the 
bank, and with books and gathered skirts in 
one hand, lifted the other in instinctively 
balancing preparation for a descent. He 
took this hand, and she made no demur to 
his leading her down the steep slope to the 
level outer ground. He retained the hand 
reverently, gently in his own as they walked 
in silence across the heath. It seemed ever 
as if she would take it from him, and that he 
consciously exerted a magic through his 
touch which just sufficed to hold it. 

With a bowed head, and cheek at once 
flushed and white, she began to speak. 
“You are very young,” she said, lingering 
over the words with almost dejection in her 
tone. “You know so little of what life is 
like! You have such a place in the affairs 
of men to fill, and you come to it with such 
innocent boyish good faith — and men are so 
little like what you think they are. And as 
you learn the lesson — the hardening, disil- 
lusionizing lesson of the world — and the soft, 
youthful places in your nature toughen, and 
578 


GLORIA MUNDI 


you are a man holding your own with other 
men, and lording it over them where you 
can, then you will hate the things which 
hamper you, and you will curse encum- 
brances that you took on you in your igno- 
rance. And you are all wrong about me! 
It is because you do not know other women 
that you think well of me. I am a very 
ordinary girl, indeed. There are thousands 
like me, and better than me, with more 
courage and finer characters, and you do not 
know them, that is all. And there are the 
young women of your own little world, who 
are born and reared to be the wives of men 
in your place, and you will see them ” 

“I have seen them,” he interposed softly. 

“But it is not fair!” she hurried on breath- 
lessly. “It is the duty of a friend to hold a 
man back when he is bent on a folly. And 
we pledged ourselves to be true friends, and 
I implore you — or no, I insist! I will not 
have it. It is too cruelly unfair to you — and 
— I am going now — no, not that way; in the 
other direction. We will say good-bye.” 

He would not relinquish the hand she 
strove to drag away. All the calmness of 
confident mastery was in his hold upon this 
hand, and in the gravely sweet cadence of 
his voice. “I love you,” he said. “I shall 
love no one in my life, or in another life, but 
579 


GLORIA MUNDI 


you. I will not live without you. I will not 
willingly spend a day in all my years away 
from you. You are truly my other half — the 
companion, the friend, the love, the wife, 
without whom nothing exists for me. I am 
not young as you say I am, and I shall 
never be old — for in this love there is no 
youth or age for either of us. Try to look 
backward now! Can you see a time when 
we did not love each other? And forward ! 
Is it thinkable that we can be parted?” 

Slowly she lifted her head. 

‘‘Look at me!” she bade him in a voice he 
seemed never to have heard before. 


THE END 


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